


Ended Up Drowning

by livesworthsaving



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Childhood Friends, Daddy Issues, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Father-Son Relationship, Female Friendship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, High School, Homeless Jughead Jones, Homelessness, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Jughead Jones-centric, Kissing, Love, Male Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Protective Jughead Jones, Relationship(s), Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Smut, Social Anxiety, Trust Issues, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 27,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livesworthsaving/pseuds/livesworthsaving
Summary: They're only inches apart, and Betty's looking at him some sort of way. He can't breathe. Jughead swallows, his voice breaking, “Also…” He glances at Betty’s lips, hesitating. The burning in his heart spreads to his limbs.





	1. In Cold Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome! This fic follows the Bughead plotline of Riverdale, including deleted scenes, but will branch off from the series to delve into Jughead and Betty's thoughts and slightly non-canon experiences. To the minxes: chapter 22 is smutty, and the last chapter will be smut. Enjoy!

“If print journalism is dead, what am I doing here?” Arms crossed, Jughead stands in the doorway of a long-abandoned classroom that used to house Riverdale High’s newspaper, the _Blue and Gold._ Sporting a green sweater and perpetual dark circles, he looks across the long room to Betty. 

Betty Cooper stands somewhat nervously behind a long row of clunky 70s computers, a large, dusty window letting in a dim halo of light behind her golden ponytail. The room starkly contrasts her clean, polished appearance, dust covering every surface. Green bookcases line one of the long walls, stuffed with dozens of neglected books. The corkboard on the same wall is covered in old writing and drawings from when the newspaper was still in print - decades ago, it seems.

Betty clasps her hands together, about to speak.

 _“This’ll be good,”_ Jughead thinks, knowing how animated Betty gets when she’s excited.

“The _Blue and Gold_ isn’t dead, Jug, it’s just...” Betty swipes her finger over the dust on a vintage typewriter, “dormant.” As Jughead steps into the room, she wipes the dust off her finger, leaning onto the small desk in front of her. “But waking up,” Betty adds, her optimism infectious.

Jughead slinks forward into the room, stopping on his way by one of the desks, plucking a magnifying glass from a full pencil cup, a private smirk flashing across his features. He glances up as Betty continues.

“You’re writing a novel, right? About Jason Blossom’s murder.”

Jughead can guess where she’s going with this. He toys with the magnifying glass, looking down at it as he responds, his words almost a question: “I _am…_ ” He extends the magnifying glass toward Betty, squinting through it, magnifying her pink sweater, “Riverdale’s very own _In Cold Blood.”_

“ _Which_ started out as a series of articles,” Betty points out. Jughead tilts his head, amused if not persuaded. Truthfully, he’d always found Betty more persuasive than most. Her factual justifications and genuine excitement often rendered him amenable to whatever she proposed, despite how hard he made it for anyone else.

Betty pushes off the desk she’s leaning against, running her hand invitingly across the top of a blocky computer. “I’m hoping you’ll come write for the _Blue and Gold.”_ She smiles self-consciously, hopeful, her arms frozen in the air as she awaits his response.

Betty knows Jughead’s skeptical, but that’s nothing new. He shifts on his feet, doubtful, but not uninterested, “I...just don’t think the school paper’s the right fit for my voice.” 

Betty lets out a quiet groan, “Juggie…” 

He hasn’t heard that in awhile. Archie and Betty are the only people who call him that, and, well…things are different, now. But maybe, if this and his recent run-ins with Archie are any indication, they’re not as different as he thought. 

His childhood friend steps out from behind the desks, nearing Jughead, briefly clenching her fists in the air as she speaks, “Jason’s death changed Riverdale.”

Jughead sighs.

Betty moves closer, pressing, “People don’t want to admit that, but it’s true. We all feel it.” She stops a couple feet from him, looking up at him with doe eyes, “Nothing this _bad_ was ever supposed to happen here, but it did. I want to know why.” 

Jughead swallows, considering it. He’s always been a sucker for a good mystery, and this one he’s already invested in. He looks at Betty, hesitant, but wide-eyed. He's curious where this could lead him in his own investigation, and, though he’d rather not admit it to himself, he feels the urge to appease Betty. “Would I get complete freedom?” he asks finally, brow furrowing. 

Betty’s caught off guard: “I’ll... _help,_ and- uh, edit…” Jughead glares doubtfully. “And suggest,” she continues, realizing she's losing him, “but it’s _your_ story! It’s your voice.” She means it, leaning against the desk beside her. 

_“Classic,”_ Jughead observes, amused. He scoffs lightly, smirking with a rare flash of his teeth. Betty always wants some sort of control over things. Jughead knows that’s, at least in part, because a lot is expected of her. He squints at nothing in particular, audibly amused, “Doesn’t _sound_ like complete freedom, but…” Betty stares up at him in hopeful suspense. He tilts his crowned head toward her, fighting a smile, “I’m in.”

Betty jumps up, almost beaming, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Okay, great! Um…” She glances down at the desk beside her, thinking, then looks to Jughead, “In that case, I have your first assignment.” She points in his direction, a smile playing at her features. “There’s one person who was at the river on July 4th that no one’s talking about.”

Jughead’s been nodding since before she finished her sentence: “Dilton Doiley.”

Betty smiles, “Exactly.”

Jughead looks her firmly in the eye, swiping his thumb over the tip of his nose with a confident smirk, then turns, leaving. Betty bites her lip, releasing a sigh to the empty room. She’d forgotten how much she missed Jughead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos below! I'd love to hear from you.


	2. Rebel Without A Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead spends a Friday at Pop's, working through the impending loss of The Twilight Drive-In (with a little help from his friends).

It’s dawn at Pop’s Chock’Lit Shoppe. Jughead sits in a booth alone, as he often does, working intently on his novel. The dark circles under his eyes are particularly prominent today. He’s been troubled for the last couple days, struggling with bizarre and vivid nightmares. 

_“It’s been a week since the discovery of Jason Blossom’s body,”_ he writes. The elderly waitress approaches him with a smile. Jughead pushes his coffee cup toward her: He’s a regular. _“But his death is not the first, nor would it be the last casualty that the town of Riverdale would suffer.”_ Jughead feels a knot in his stomach as he continues typing: _“The Twilight Drive-In, where I work, my home away from home, a piece of town history, is closing for good.”_ He takes a quick sip of coffee, finishing off the paragraph: _“Just when we needed a place to escape to the most.”_

Jughead sighs, unwilling to continue, haunted by the thought… _“The reality,”_ he reminds himself, of losing the drive-in. He decides to spend the day right where he is, not only to avoid the drive-in and the feelings it stirs up, but to avoid any interactions at school. Despite his turbulent life, it's not like him to skip, but today, he just doesn't have it in him to move from his seat. Wondering if Betty will miss him at the _Blue and Gold,_ a knot starts to form in his chest. Jug takes another swig of coffee, trying to ignore it. 

Once he’s chugged enough coffee to feel a buzz, Jughead sets aside his writing in favor of reading a paperback copy of Aldous Huxley’s _Brave New World._ It’s a jarring projection of humanity’s future, the carefully crafted antithesis of the utopian novels of its time. Jughead respects Huxley’s rebelliousness in this. Fueled by caffeine, he finishes the 288-page novel in only a few hours. Releasing a sigh, Jughead raps his knuckles on the table before submitting to fate, returning to his writing despite how it reminds him of all he’s about to lose: _“With Sheriff Keller knocking on every door, and neighbor suspecting neighbor, Riverdale, every day that passes, is becoming more like Salem during the witch trials."_

After dusk, when all the light is drawn from the sky, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin arrive in the neon blue light that nighttime brings to Pop’s. Jughead hears their footsteps and the sound of the front door swinging closed, followed by a quiet “Hi, Mom.” He recognizes Veronica’s voice, then hears some hushed, mundane conversation between mother and daughter. He gives up listening to this as soon as Betty sits in the booth beside him, unusually quiet. Jughead fails to notice this, letting out a breath, his tense jaw relaxing some. It's relieving to feel her familiar presence. 

Kevin slides in across from him with a nod in his direction. Veronica then sweeps into the picture, wearing a dark hooded cloak, taking her place across from Betty. Hermione Lodge follows close behind, leaving her pen and notepad in her apron, brushing her fatigue aside in favor of pleasantness: “Hi, kids. What can I get you?” 

Betty looks up, not her usual chipper self: “I’ll have a strawberry milkshake, please."

Hermione looks over to Jughead, who’s staring out the window, lost in thought. Betty lightly nudges him, “Jug." 

He blinks, turning to acknowledge Hermione. “I’m fine, thanks,” he mumbles, reserved. 

Kevin opens his mouth to speak. Hermione points at him with a hopeful smile, “Diet Coke?” 

Kevin nods enthusiastically, surprised she remembers: “Please.”

She looks to Veronica.

“Just a water, Mom.” 

“Okay,” Hermione smiles. Knowing not to linger, she swiftly disappears.

Kevin fills the group in on his father’s investigation, but there’s not much news on that front. Veronica asks Betty if she knows a girl in one of her classes. They discuss her for a minute, though Betty doesn’t seem very invested in the conversation - or her milkshake, when it arrives.

Jughead orders something to eat. Betty wonders if he’s been at Pop’s all day, eating his feelings. She's not far off. _“Wouldn’t be the first time,”_ she reflects with slight amusement, remembering a time a couple years ago when Jug had a fight with his dad. She found him at Pop’s, on his third cheeseburger.

"You weren't at school today," Kevin mentions to Jughead. 

"Yeah," he agrees flatly. 

Veronica turns to Jughead, positive he’s upset about the drive-in’s fate: “How are you, Jughead?” 

Jughead glowers out the window, “Shit, thanks.”

Betty objects with a nudge. 

Jughead rolls his eyes, turning to face Veronica, resting his arms on the table, “You really want to know?”

Veronica nods, holding her water glass.

Like she flipped a switch, Jughead’s fury comes out full-force, “The drive-in closing is just one more-” he beats his fists on the table for emphasis, “ _-nail_ in the coffin that is Riverdale.” 

Betty sighs. Veronica’s amused.

“No,” Jug amends, shaking his head, “forget Riverdale, in the coffin of the _American Dream._ ” He looks out the window, tinted red by the neon sign outside, exasperated. 

Betty sits still beside him, busy worrying about Archie’s situation with Ms. Grundy, despite how riled up Jughead is. Kevin looks down at his half-full Coke, uncomfortable. 

Jughead stumbles over his words, flustered, “As the godfather of- of- of indie cinema, Quentin Tarantino, likes to say…”

Kevin cuts in, lifting one of his hands in Jughead’s direction: “ _Please,_ God, no more Quentin Tarantino references.” 

Veronica looks at Kevin, shaking her head, working at holding back a smile. 

“What?” Jughead challenges Kevin sharply, “I’m pissed!” He glances at Betty, who feels his gaze, waking up from her trance with a blink. “And not just about losing my job,” Jughead clarifies, “The Twilight Drive-In should mean something to us. People should be trying to save it!”

Veronica looks at Jughead, reaching a hand out to him, calm but skeptical: “In this age of Netflix and VOD, do people really want to watch a movie in a car? I mean, who even goes there?” 

Kevin looks at Veronica, apprehensive: “People who want to buy _crack._ ”

Jughead glares at Kevin, exasperated. “And cinephiles, and car enthusiasts.” 

Betty’s not listening, tapping the table by the base of her glass, otherwise lifeless. 

Jughead turns to her, “Right, Bets?” 

She blinks, looking up at him, wide-eyed. “Totally!” she offers, giving him a big nod. She has no idea what he said. 

Jug sees she wasn’t listening, almost rolling his eyes as he looks away. Veronica and Kevin both offer Betty a sympathetic smile. 

Jughead continues his rant, “Anyway, it’s closing because the town owns it, but didn’t _invest_ in it.” Betty shifts awkwardly in her seat, looking away from him. “So, when an anonymous buyer made Mayor McCoy an offer she couldn’t refuse...” 

_“A-no-ny-mous buyer?”_ Veronica doubts, chuckling, “What do they have to hide? No one cares."

 _“I_ do!” Jughead reminds her, squinting at her incredulously. 

Beside him, Betty’s gaze shifts rapidly as she continues worrying about Archie, trying to think of solutions. 

Jughead quiets down, calm: “Also, you guys should all come to closing night.” 

Veronica and Kevin perk up at this. Betty touches her milkshake for the first time, absently scooping whipped cream onto her finger, licking it off. 

Jughead continues: “I’m thinking… _American Graffiti_ … or is that too obvious?”

While Betty remains distracted, Kevin and Veronica wince at Jughead’s suggestion, Veronica chiming in with a smile: “I vote for anything starring Audrey Hepburn. Or Cate Blanchett.” 

Kevin looks at Veronica, inspired: “Or _The Talented Mr. Ripley._ ” He nods at her, suddenly remembering their pink-sweatered companion, “Betty, your choices?”

Betty tilts her head, eyes wide, coming back into the moment with a small shake of her head. 

Veronica narrows her eyes at Betty, concerned, “Everything okay, B?” 

Betty shakes it off, “Yeah, yeah, I’m just… thinking. Um… maybe…” she smiles, _“Rebel Without A Cause?”_

Jughead perks up, turning to look at her. He can’t help but give her a knowing smirk. They both laugh under their breath. It's been less than a day, but he's missed her. 

Betty’s relieved to see him smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of trivia: the title of this fic is the name of Betty and Jughead's theme!  
> Please leave any thoughts, questions, or wishes (really!) in the comments.


	3. And Us With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead makes a last-ditch effort to save the drive-in, and runs into an old face.

“I’m sorry, but the Twilight Drive-In?” Mayor McCoy asks.

It’s Saturday, and Jughead’s squatting to look at a model of Riverdale in Mayor McCoy’s office. He peers down one of the tiny streets, where model vintage cars are placed. It’s, perhaps, an idyllic version of Riverdale. A glimpse into its past.

The mayor paces behind her desk, “It’s a blight that’s become a cesspool…” Jughead sighs at this, standing to face her. “And- and a hangout for criminals,” she continues, flustered, “and…transients, and the deal’s done.” She sits with finality.

Jughead lets out a deep sigh. _“This can’t be it,”_ he tells himself.

The mayor opens a file, speaking matter-of-factly with a shrug: “Andrews construction is scheduled to demolish the lot on Monday.”

Jughead feels his stomach drop, pressing his lips together. “Mayor McCoy,” he appeals, sitting in the chair facing her desk, “when I was a kid, my family and I would go to the drive-in all the time.” 

McCoy smiles, crossing her arms and leaning in to listen. 

“We couldn’t afford tickets for everyone, so my sister Jellybean and I would hide in the trunk until we parked. We’d sneak out.” Jughead chuckles lightly, recalling it. “It’s like my home,” he admits, wide-eyed.

The mayor shifts in her seat, sympathetic, “That’s a very sweet sentiment, Mr. Jones.” She leans in closer, “But the future of Riverdale is at stake.”

Jughead stares at Mayor McCoy as her words sink in, his gut twisting.

\--

He’s already gone to the top, but Jug can’t stop himself from visiting Fred Andrews’ office. He’s the last person Jughead can ask to stop this madness.

Jughead stands in the closed doorway while Fred pours himself a cup of coffee. “Mayor McCoy says you won the contract to tear down the drive-in.” Jug's worn thin, half-defeated.

“I did,” Fred agrees, an apology in his voice. He heads over to his desk with a sigh. “Look, I- I’m sorry, Jughead, I know how much you love the Twilight, and so do I…” He sits.

Jughead rushes over to him, standing in front of his desk, brow furrowed as he pleads with him, “Mr. Andrews, just give me a week to track down the person who bought the land, and convince them not to demolish a holy house of cinema.”

Fred shakes his head, reasoning with him, “It’s a big contract for me, Jug, _and_ for my guys.” 

Jughead sighs. 

“Whatever they build in the place of the drive-in could mean more jobs…”

Jughead’s face twists, “Yeah, in what, some hypothetical future?!” 

Fred leans back in his chair, realizing how angry Jughead is. 

Jughead spits venom, “You put one Jones out of work… why don’t you put out another, huh?” It hurts to hear it come out of his own mouth. Deep down, he knows Fred isn’t at fault. He’s just looking out for his family, his workers...but Jughead needs someone to blame, and it’s easy to blame Fred.

“Jug,” Fred responds gently, regretfully reminding Jughead, “Your dad was taking materials from one of our job sites. I _had_ to let him go.” 

“Right,” Jughead nods resentfully, “You did what you had to do.” He shrugs, “Like you’re doing now.” Jughead scoffs, “Later,” beelining for the door. 

“Jug…” Fred tries, turning toward him.

The door closes behind him.

\--

It’s dusk now: closing night. Jughead lies on his cot, which leans against the painted cement wall of the drive-in’s projection booth. A few fluorescent utility lights dimly illuminate the musty room. A standing lamp is on over his uncased pillow. Jughead’s attempting to read under this light, but keeps impulsively checking the time on his out-of-date phone, awaiting the impending end of a golden era. Only his father knows this is where he’s been living, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Jughead doesn’t want anyone’s pity. 

A tall shelf of film reels stands on the wall by the door, next to a large L-shaped desk. On a small table by his feet sits a double-sided hotplate with a coffee pot atop it. A toaster oven’s squeezed in behind this - Jughead uses it to reheat burgers from Pop’s. Two blue mugs sit on a ledge above it, a gallon water bottle on the ledge by his pillow. This is home. 

When it’s time, Jughead plays _Rebel Without A Cause,_ breaking into a small smile as he pictures the face Betty will make when it comes on below. What he doesn’t know is that Betty isn’t there: her mother read her diary and knows about Ms. Grundy. Betty’s been dragged along for a confrontation. Jug watches the movie, but he’s not really there. Shoulders slumped, he stares at the projection and tries to ignore the burning feeling in his chest. He thinks of Jellybean, and how excited she used to be to come here. It’s been years. Jughead hasn’t seen Jellybean or his mom in three years, and it weighs on him even more than usual tonight.

Morning comes. No matter how hard Jughead tries to fall back asleep, he can’t. With a sigh, he sits up, resting his feet on the cold floor. His beanie already on his head, he finds a couple of socks sitting on the floor, slipping them on. Walking over to his big backpack atop the metal desk, he pulls out a pair of light jeans, black suspenders, a black t-shirt, and a flannel. Once dressed, he moves a red blanket aside, sitting on the edge of the cot, grabbing his black boots and absently lacing them onto his feet. He stands, taking his navy jacket from beside his backpack, slipping it on with a heavy sigh. Looking around the room, he spots one of his flannels crumpled up on a shelf above his cot. Grabbing it, he stuffs it into his overfull backpack. 

Turning to the other side of the desk, he picks up a photo with a crease down the middle, giving it a quick glance. It’s a photo of him at ten, hugging his brown-haired little sister Jellybean, then age five. There’s a pink bow atop her head, and her two front teeth are missing, something Jughead always smiles about when he sees it. They’re standing in front of the drive-in, Jughead with his signature gray whoopee beanie. He blinks, tucking it into his backpack, throwing it onto his shoulder. 

Jughead grabs a can of black spray paint he left by the steps to the projection booth, heading to the side of the building. He sets his bag against a big brown wall, stepping back and contemplating for a second before spraying in huge letters: “JUgHEAD JONES WUZ HERE.” He sprays a crown on top, tossing the can aside with finality. Picking up his backpack, he slings it over his shoulder, turning around to see his father standing before him, wearing a Southside Serpents leather jacket, a hand in his pocket. Jughead’s brow furrows.

FP speaks up, “They’ll tear that booth down, too. Raze the whole place. Send it to the junkyard, and us with it.”

Jughead nods, “Yeah, maybe they’ll save it. All the pieces. Store it in the town hall attic, and rebuild it in a hundred years. Wonder who the hell we were.” He breaks into a smile.

FP smiles in return, “Hm.” Jughead’s smile falls. FP looks pointedly at his son, “So, where you gonna live now?”

Jughead frowns, shifting on his feet, “I’ll figure it out, Dad.”

FP looks away, disappointed that Jughead won’t come home. He knows why, though… he’s fallen off the wagon again. Things aren’t good for Jug at home. 

Jughead steps toward him, adding: “I always do.” He passes by FP’s shoulder, leaving the lot for God knows where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any questions, comments, or wishes (I mean it!), please leave them in the comments.


	4. Dead Men Tell No Tales

It’s morning in the _Blue and Gold_ newsroom. Jughead sits on a desk facing a corkboard that Kevin's pinning his last photo onto. The board used to house old writing, but has been repainted and given an immediate purpose. “This is how my dad had his Jason Blossom murder board before it was trashed,” Kevin explains.

Jughead touches his finger to his lip, in thought, “Any leads on who did that, or what they were looking for?”

“Nope,” Kevin shakes his head, turning toward Jughead, and Betty, who’s sitting on a desk nearby, “No fingerprints.” Betty shakes her head, taking in the board with deep concern. “But they stole a bunch of files, background checks, and _all_ the video and audiotapes of police interviews,” Kevin discloses.

Jughead rubs his fingers together, deep in thought as he analyzes the murder board. The door opens in a nearby corner. Jug looks over to see who it is.

Trev, a sophomore on the football team, steps into the room. He’s excited, if a bit nervous: “Hey, Betty…”

Jughead glowers at Trev.

Betty grins, hopping off the desk, “Trev! Hi!”

Jughead glowers at Betty.

Trev steps into the room, a hand in his pocket, spotting the murder board: “Sorry to interrupt…”

Betty stays upbeat, “Oh, no! It’s okay, we’re just workin’ on…”

“Our _murder_ board,” Jughead interjects, raising his eyebrows at Trev.

Trev gapes at Jughead. Betty nods in agreement, hiding her frustration with Jughead behind a smile. Trev continues, “Well, I just…wanted to make sure we’re still on for tomorrow.” 

“Absolutely!” Betty nods, reassuring, “It’s a date!” 

Jughead looks up at her, wide-eyed, decimated in an instant. _“What?”_ he frets internally, paling.

Betty remembers Jughead behind her, backpedaling with a smile, leaving Trev no hint of something amiss, “I mean...I’ll- I’ll see you there! Bye.” She points at him in a lame attempt to be casual.

Trev chuckles, heading for the door, “Peace out. See ya.” 

Betty turns toward Kevin as he leaves, her voice soft, “Peace out. Bye.”

Kevin raises his eyebrows, teasing, “Goin’ on a date with Trev…” He tilts his head, “Does Mama Cooper know about that?”

Betty avoids his gaze, defensive, “Kev, I’m not on house arrest…” Kevin gives her a doubtful look. She can’t lie: “Okay, she’s out of town at a Women in Journalism spa retreat.” She heads over to the far end of a long desk beside Jughead, trying to get out of his range of sight, “Anyway, it’s not a ‘date’ date…”

Jughead’s arms are crossed, his tone incredulous, “You...just called it a date.” He swallows, looking at her, “You literally said ‘It’s a date.’”

“That’s just my cover,” Betty explains, avoiding his gaze, “Really, it’s just an intelligence-gathering mission.” Kevin nods, amused, but not convinced. She looks over at him, “We should focus on the one thing we have access to that your dad doesn’t: the kids at Riverdale High. You know, maybe Trev knows something about Jason he didn’t think was important.”

Jughead’s brow furrows as he turns his gaze from her, wondering if she’s telling the truth. Is this really an intelligence-gathering mission? Why does he even care? He pictures her at Pop’s, on a date with Trev, and feels a burning weight in his chest. He's confused by these feelings, sure he has no claim over Betty and dismissing the thought of wanting one. He decided that’s not his place long ago.

That sinking feeling haunts Jughead all morning. At lunchtime, their group of friends sits on the bleachers in the mild September air. Betty sits with Archie at the head of the pack, social butterfly Veronica in the middle, while Kevin and Jughead hang in the back. Jughead, more than ever, would rather be apart from things. He observes his childhood friends as they talk, thinking of the many years he spent comforting Betty when Archie went after another girl. 

His gaze lingers on Betty as he thinks of the time she’d found him at Pop’s after a fight with his dad, taking his hand in hers and just sitting with him. He remembers how she’d looked at him with those doe eyes when she asked him to join the _Blue and Gold,_ recalling how profusely she’d apologized for missing the drive-in’s closing night - and the warm hug she'd pulled him into. She couldn't have known how starved for touch he was...could she? He stops himself: _“She’ll never want someone like me. A damaged loner from the wrong side of the tracks?"_ He looks away from Betty, distraught, _"Maybe when hell freezes over.”_

The next morning, Betty and Jughead meet in the student lounge. Betty sits on the red couch in the center of the room, while Jughead perches in an adjacent armchair. Jug folds his hands in front of his face as Betty relays what Trev told her on their “date”: that Jason Blossom had been selling drugs. She also, somewhat reluctantly, tells him about a late-night confrontation with her father over her sister, Polly.

“He said she ‘tried to end her own life,’” Betty professes, trying not to tear up.

“Betty, I’m sorry.” Jughead looks up to meet her worried gaze, “That’s hardcore.”

Betty shakes her head, overwhelmed, “I asked my dad if I could call Polly. He said she was doing better, but then, when she heard about Jason’s death, she had a big setback.” Jughead watches Betty carefully, concerned. She shrugs, “He doesn’t want to risk another one.”

Jug shakes his head, “Why does a rich kid sell drugs?”

“He was running away from his parents!” Betty asserts.

Jughead stands, restless, “Yeah, probably.” He paces, “Or drug dealers.”

“Oh my god,” Betty’s eyes grow wide, “Is that _possible?”_

Jug leans against a tall cabinet, turning to face her, “It’s a theory.” Betty hugs herself, imagining it. Jughead sighs, “Yours is more likely, but why would he have to run away from _Mommy_ and _Daddy?”_

“Because...they’re _monsters!”_

Jughead pushes off of the cupboard, stepping toward her, “Yeah, but _why,_ specifically?”

Betty looks up at him, “Well, we can’t just _ask_ them.”

Jughead thinks for a moment: “So, we have to ask Jason.”

Betty squints up at him, “Are you...proposing a seance, or…?”

“No," Jughead laughs under his breath, smirking, "Dead men tell no tales.” He lowers his voice, conspiratorial, “But their bedrooms…” He glances over his shoulder, “Their _houses?”_


	5. Close To Your Heart

It’s the afternoon of Jason Blossom’s funeral. Betty looks into her standing mirror, slipping on a black cardigan with a rose pattern, freeing her flaxen hair from under it. It's half-up, a significant change from her perpetual high ponytail. 

“Ready to enter the belly of the beast?” Jughead’s voice comes from behind her. 

Betty turns to see him standing in front of her vanity, wearing a slightly oversized suit. She clasps her hands in front of her waist, looking over his outfit. Despite the formal attire, he’s still wearing his crown beanie. Sometimes, Betty wonders if he ever takes it off.

 _“God, you’re beautiful,”_ Jughead thinks, unable to help himself, smirking self-consciously as Betty appraises his outfit. She smiles, chuckling softly. Jughead averts his gaze, shy, tucking his hands into his pockets. He dares to look at her again, breaking into a small, nervous smile, “It was the best I could do.”

Betty nods, resisting a grin, delighted.

Jughead shifts on his feet, secretly satisfied, feeling a heat rise in his cheeks.

\--

Under an overcast sky, Jughead and Betty arrive at the Blossoms’ chilling home: Thornhill Mansion. They pass through its wrought iron gates, hanging back from Betty’s parents in order to discuss their plan of attack.

“During the reception, we sneak upstairs and search Jason’s room for clues,” Jughead reminds Betty.

She nods, ill at ease.

“You alright?” Jughead asks, resting a hand on her back as they stroll toward the towering brick and stone estate.

Betty leans into him with thanks, “I’m fine, Jug.” She hesitates, sighing, “Thinking of him makes me think of Polly. I can’t believe what happened to her...”

Jughead knows what it’s like to worry about a sister, even if their circumstances are very different. He moves in front of Betty, holding her arms, looking into her green eyes, “Betty, your sister is safe; that’s what’s important right now. She’s strong, just like you; she’ll make it through this. The best way we can help her now is by discovering what really happened.”

Betty nods, looking at her feet. She’s beginning to notice Jughead has a way with words.

“Betty,” he murmurs gently.

She reluctantly meets his gaze, nodding feebly, “Okay.”

Jughead squeezes her arms, “Come on, let’s find the truth.”

\--

Mere minutes into the reception, Betty and Jughead sneak up the Blossoms’ imposing mahogany staircase. Upon reaching the top, they hear breaking glass, and an irate Penelope Blossom: “That’s _mahogany!”_ They look at each other with hushed laughter.

Jason’s room is the second door in the narrow hallway. Jughead slowly creaks it open, peering into the dim, lifeless space. The walls have an oppressive dark blue, patterned wallpaper. A red plaid pillow sits atop a perfectly made bed. Two glass cases stand by the door, filled with towering first place trophies. On the opposite wall is a large window with a tall cabinet to its left. Every piece of furniture in the room is made of the same dark, foreboding mahogany as everything else at Thornhill. 

They slowly enter the room, staying close together. Betty looks around, “Is it me, or did the temperature just drop like it does in horror movies?”

Jughead’s brow furrows as he inspects everything in view, “That’s just the icy chill of the dead.” He walks over to the ottoman at the end of Jason’s bed, searching under the bag and blanket on top of it. 

Betty moves into the heart of the room, “Where does a teenage boy hide things?” She reaches up to massage her neck, this whole situation making her tense.

Jughead stands, looking toward the tall cabinet, “Under the mattress, maybe...in the drawers, behind the headboard, in the closet.” He moves over to the cabinet, opening the double doors on the bottom. 

Betty heads in the same direction, opening the drawer in Jason’s bedside table, rifling through its contents.

A voice comes from the shadows behind the open door: “Hello.”

Betty and Jughead spin around, gasping. “Holy!” Jughead exclaims, lightly taking hold of Betty’s arm. Betty leans against him out of fear. 

Grandma Blossom, a wheelchair-bound woman in her mid-70s, slowly approaches from across the room. Her coiled white hair has a bright red streak through it, a striking symbol of her Blossom heritage. Her left eye is milky, while her right is a clear gray-green. She wears a ruffled ivory blouse, a black pleated skirt, and a black cardigan. It seems she’s been left out of sight, despite being dressed for the funeral.

Betty, wide-eyed, speaks breathlessly: “I’m sorry, we were just leaving.” She straightens her cardigan. Jughead’s of no help, still gaping at Grandma Blossom from behind her. 

The old woman wheels closer, peering up at Betty. “Oh, it’s _you!”_ she declares sweetly, “How lovely to see you again!” Betty and Jughead remain frozen. “Come closer, I want to get a good look at you.” 

Betty raises her eyebrows, weighing her options. Jughead whispers in Betty’s ear, still staring at the woman in dismay: “The horror! The horror!” Betty shudders, stepping away from him. His hand falls away from her back. Betty gives the old woman a small, uncomfortable smile. 

“Come closer, Polly, dear,” Grandma Blossom insists, motioning to the young blonde. Betty glances at Jughead, nervous. Jughead follows close behind her as she steps closer to Grandma Blossom, noting what the eerie woman called her. 

Betty hesitates for a second, finally resting on Jason’s ottoman, “It’s...nice to see you again, too. I’m sorry it had to be under such terrible circumstances.”

Grandma Blossom takes her hand, quickly inspecting it, conspiratorial: “Well, of course you’re not wearing it. Oh, bless.” She releases Betty’s hand, leaning back in her chair. 

Betty squints, confused, “Wearing what?”

“The ring, Polly!” the old woman exclaims, leaning in and pointing at Betty, “That ring has been in the Blossom family for generations.” She rests her hand over her heart, “You keep it close to your heart, always. But…” she points at Betty again, “don’t tell Penelope I gave it to _you._ Or...she’ll likely come and _snip it off your finger!”_

Betty gasps, horrified: “I won’t, I promise.” She looks up at Jughead in terror. Jughead, wide-eyed, meets her gaze, raising an eyebrow as he shakes his head in horror.

Grandma Blossom’s sweet again, “Your wedding was the last thing I was _living_ for.” Betty begins to tear up, mouth still agape. “I lost a grandson, but _you,_ you’ve lost the love of your young _life._ Poor child.”

Betty slightly shakes her head, jumping to her feet, overwhelmed: “Excuse me.” She looks toward the exit, tearing up, “I have to…” she glances at Jughead, “I can’t…” Betty rushes from the room.

Jughead darts after her, shutting the door behind him.

Betty takes a deep, shaky breath, carefully wiping her eyes.

“Betty…” Jughead approaches her trembling form, hesitantly resting a hand on her shoulder, resisting the urge to pull her into a hug. He’s not sure how she’d react to it, and now isn’t the time to find out.

“It’s okay, Juggie,” she mutters, adjusting her cardigan, holding her chin up, “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I post every Friday and Sunday (at least). If you have any thoughts, questions, or wishes, please leave them in the comments section below! Thanks for reading.


	6. Where's Polly?

It’s afternoon in the _Blue and Gold_ Newsroom. Betty leans against a desk in the back of the room, facing the large window, touching the sky blue lace of her shirt sleeve. Jughead sits on a nearby desk, wearing one of his sheepskin-collared jackets, a navy flannel tied around his waist. A long moment of silence passes between them before Betty speaks up, crestfallen, “Juggie, I feel like I don’t even know who my mom and dad are anymore.” 

The day before, upon learning from Grandma Blossom that her parents lied to her, Betty confronted her father about Polly. Hal told her that his grandfather was business partners with a Blossom. That Blossom murdered his grandfather, “stealing the Coopers’ livelihood.” He firmly warned Betty to stay out of it, and especially to stay away from Polly. Betty was truly her mother’s daughter: this threat spurred her to investigate further. 

“Betty…” Jughead rises, arm crossed, pacing along the row of desks behind her, “If your parents lied about Jason and Polly…” Betty sighs at this, “There’s probably more that they lied about.” He stills, waiting for her response.

Betty stands, moving toward him. She doesn’t want to believe him, but he has a point: “What do you mean?”

“Your dad said he would do anything to protect Polly.” Jughead glances at Betty as she approaches, his brow furrowing as he ponders a harsh possibility, “So, the next logical question is…how far would he go to protect her?” He turns, grabbing a Sharpie and yellow note-card from the desk under the murder board. He lightly shakes his head, writing something down.

Betty moves closer, concerned, “Jughead...Whoever broke into Sheriff Keller’s house and stole all his evidence wasn’t at the drive-in.” Her voice grows quiet, “My dad wasn’t at the drive-in.”

Jughead hands her the piece of paper in his hands. Betty swallows. Their eyes meet. Jughead’s face is steeled, but his eyes are sympathetic. Betty nods, looking up at him from under her lashes, pinning the note to the murder board: “The Coopers.”

Jughead speaks softly, “We need to talk to Polly.”

Betty, shaken, nods.

\--

Early the next morning, Betty sits on her bed in a fuzzy gray cardigan, writing in her diary. Her mother Alice, dressed sharply as always, enters the room with a basket of clothes, setting it on the stool of her vanity. 

Betty snaps her diary shut, fiddling with its satin placeholder as she speaks: “Oh, Mom, I forgot to mention, I invited Jughead over for breakfast.”

Alice raises her eyebrows, pursing her lips as she puts Betty’s clothes into her dresser, “Hm.” 

Their breakfast is elaborate, despite how little time Alice had to prepare it. She’s a big proponent of breakfast, and the old adage that it’s the most important meal of the day. This is demonstrated by the large bowl of mixed fruit, large pitcher of orange juice, and heaping plate of pancakes she sets on the table. Jughead forks an impossible number of pancakes onto his plate, pouring himself a tall glass of orange juice, while Betty refuses to eat, instead engaged in a stare-down with her mother across the table. 

Alice stirs her tea in its dainty teacup, occasionally eyeing Jughead like he’s an undesirable. A long bout of uncomfortable silence passes. She clinks her spoon on the side of her cup, picking it up: “So, Jughead…” 

Jughead looks up, his mouth stuffed with pancakes. Alice sets down her cup, folding her arms to peer at Betty from across the long table, tone sharp: “I suppose we have you to thank for Betty’s ongoing obsession with this Jason Blossom ghoulishness?” 

Jughead's slight smile falters.

Betty comes to his rescue with forced pleasantry, “Actually, Mom,” she motions to Jughead, “ _I_ was the one who asked Jughead to help me write it for the _Blue and Gold._ ”

Her mother laughs with a faux-innocent air: “ _Relax,_ Betty, I’m just making conversation.” 

Betty eyes Jughead, who’s chugging his orange juice. She subtly knocks on the table twice, raising her eyebrows. This is their signal.

Jughead gives her a subtle nod, swallowing: communication received. He sets down his orange juice, keeping it casual, “Do you guys have a bathroom I could use?”

Betty starts to rise, “Sure! I’ll show you.”

Alice interjects: “No, no! _I’ll_ show him!”

If Betty knows anything about her mother, it’s that she wants to be in control. Betting she would react like this, Alice is playing right into Betty’s hand. 

Alice stands with a smug smile, unaware of her subtle failure, “Follow me… _Jug_ head.” Jughead stands, following. 

Betty grins after him, thinking to herself: _“My predictable mother, Alice Cooper.”_ Jughead shoots Betty a glance as he turns the corner into the hall: the mission is a go. She springs up from her chair, rushing to the small table against the wall, covered in photographs of her family...and her mother’s purse. She rifles through the contents of her purse, grabbing a checkbook. Pulling out her phone, she leafs through the contents of the checkbook, snapping pictures of the names inside. 

\--

A couple hours later, Betty stands in the _Blue and Gold_ Newsroom with her back to the murder board, looking through the photos on her phone. Jughead’s seated in front of her, on his gray laptop. Betty zooms in on a photo of one of Alice’s checks, reading the print: “The Sisters of Quiet Mercy.” She approaches Jughead, “What is that? Like a church? Or a charity?”

Jughead opens his web browser, Sleuthster, searching it, “No, it’s a…” the page loads, “home for troubled youths.” He squints, reading the mission statement: “Where disenfranchised youths will learn such virtues as discipline and respect, enjoying lives of quiet reflection and servitude.” 

Betty frowns at the screen as a weight pulls on her chest, “Poor Polly...” 

\--

At lunch, Betty and Jughead sit across from Archie and Val at a blue picnic table by the track. Jughead snacks from a bag of chips, his crossed legs facing Betty. They’re both wearing gray low-top Converse. Betty’s frustrated: “It’s been months. There’s _gotta_ be a reason my mom and dad don’t want me to see Polly.” She shakes her head, smiling, past being fed up, “But I don’t care anymore!”

Archie leans in, “What are you guys talking about? Anything I can help with?”

Jughead sets down his bag of chips, turning to face him, “What we’re attempting is a stealth operation, Archie. If we go in there with the entire Scooby Gang, forget it, we’re compromised.” 

_“He’s right,”_ Betty thinks, and aside from the logistics of it, she wouldn’t want to go with anyone else. Jughead’s been the only one to help her find her sister. Sometimes, especially investigating Jason Blossom’s murder, it feels like it’s the two of them against the world. And - perish the thought - Betty likes it that way. She likes the way Jughead doesn’t care about his reputation, as long as the mystery is solved. She likes his reassurances, the way he rests a hand on her to remind her that she’s not alone. She watches as he tilts his head, quirking his lips into a smirk… _“Oh, no.”_


	7. Sisters of Quiet Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very Polly-centered, but has a lot of essential information for future scenes between Betty and Jughead. Hope you enjoy!

Midday on Saturday, Betty and Jughead ride a bus to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy home for troubled youths. As they near the stop, Betty clenches her fists in her lap. Jughead frowns, resting a hand over one of hers, murmuring, “It’s okay, Betty.” She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. When the bus stops, she lets Jughead lead her off. It pulls away to reveal a towering stone building.

 _“It’s a prison,”_ Betty frets, her hand beginning to curl into a fist. A double-sided staircase fronts the towering building, an imposing angel statue on its landing. The pair look up in awe, Betty’s eyes tearing up.

“Hey…” Jughead takes in the gray monstrosity, “Don’t judge a home for troubled youths by its facade…” Betty frowns. Jughead chuckles halfheartedly, “Right?”

Betty lightly shakes her head, imagining what Polly could have gone through here. She tears up, "My parents have been keeping Polly here for months, while I was just...living my life." She swallows, flushed with emotion, "If I had known she was staying at a place like this..."

"Hey," Jughead turns to her, resting a hand on her shoulder, running it down her back. Betty's tension dissolves at his touch. "Hey," Jughead repeats. Betty turns to face him, wide-eyed. Jughead's earnest, "Now you're _doing_ something about it."

She nods, letting out a quiet sigh. He's right. _"You always know what to say,"_ she reflects, looking into his tender eyes.

"Come on," Jughead murmurs, nodding toward the towering building, "let's go get some answers."

Betty steels herself, adjusting her ponytail like she’s going to war. Jughead smiles at this. Betty, determined, makes for the building, her favorite outcast close behind her.

They step out of the overcast gloom and into a dim reception area. Betty quickly approaches the counter, leaning against it to address the elderly receptionist nun. Out of necessity, she maintains some semblance of calm, “Hi, my name is Elizabeth Cooper. I’m here to see my sister, Polly.” 

The receptionist perks up, a suspicious look in her eye, “May I see some identification?” Betty produces her school I.D., placing it on the counter. The receptionist looks it over, pushing a sign-in sheet in her direction, “Sign here, please.” She glances at Jughead, “He’ll have to wait.” Jughead gives Betty a look.

After being shown Polly’s room by the same nun, Betty’s lead to the Garden of Deliverance, where her sister likes to spend her silent reflection time. The garden is a circle of fenced-in red and pink rose bushes surrounding a symbolic statue. Polly takes a red rose matching her cardigan into her hands. A small gold crucifix hangs from her neck. Betty approaches from behind her with a hopeful smile, “Polly?”

Polly looks up, shocked and delighted to see her sister: “Betty!” Betty grins. Polly rushes over, throwing her arms around her sister. “Oh, Betty!” she exclaims, “You found us!” They both sigh, pulling away from each other, arms still linked. Betty spots her sister’s baby bump, reaching to touch it, “You’re…Polly, you’re…” she looks up at Polly, “With Jason’s…?”

Polly frets, “Please be happy for me, Betty.”

Betty takes her sister’s arms, genuinely delighted, “I am, Polly!” They both blink back happy tears. “I’m just...I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner. I should have, but Mom and Dad, they stopped…”

“No,” Polly interjects, her frustration with her parents showing, “What did they tell you? That I was on drugs? Alcohol?”

“They said you were sick,” Betty admits regretfully, “That you tried...to hurt yourself.”

Polly lets out a frustrated breath, “And they told me that you didn’t _want_ to come and see me,” Polly smiles, “which I knew was a lie.”

Betty shakes her head in disbelief, “So, they locked you up because you’re _pregnant?”_

“It’s because they couldn’t _control_ me, Betty.” The girls begin to pace through the garden, “Mom and Dad _hated_ that Jason and I were dating. They were _thrilled_ when Jason dumped me.” Betty nods sternly. “Jason’s parents forced him to break up with me.” They sit side-by-side on a granite bench as Polly continues, “Of _course_ they didn’t approve of a Blossom boy dating a Cooper girl.” Polly lights up, “But when I told them about the baby… _our_ baby...oh, he was _so_ happy, Betty!” 

Betty smiles, glad Jason was supportive of Polly. Not any high school boy would be in that situation.

“We were gonna run away. Start our family in a beautiful place.” Polly’s smile falters, “So, on July 4th, I woke up, I packed a bag, and I went downstairs to start my new life, just like Jason and I had planned. We were gonna meet on the other side of Sweetwater River.” Polly tears up, “But Mom and Dad found out about everything. When I went downstairs, there was a woman I didn’t know sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea with two men behind her.”

“Oh my god,” Betty replies.

Polly’s voice wavers, “They threw me in the back of a van. I was _screaming._ ” She shakes her head, “I don’t think I stopped screaming until I got here, in this place.” She looks up at Betty, “Have you talked to him? Does he know that I’m here?”

Betty searches her sister’s face, confused. Her parents told Polly about Jason...right? “Who, Polly?” she asks, confused. 

“Jason,” Polly clarifies impatiently. She leans in, conspiratorial, “If I give him a message, will you make sure it gets to him?”

Betty hesitates, unsure where to begin, “Polly, Jason-”

“What does he think happened?” Polly interrupts, standing, “He knows that I’m here because of Mom and Dad, right?”

Betty rises, taking her sister’s hands, “Polly, you don’t understand.”

Polly’s worked up now, “I can fix this, Betty! I know I can.” She checks over Betty’s shoulder, dropping to a whisper, “You just have to help me get out of here, and then I’ll go to meet him.” Betty fervently shakes her head. “I’ll go to the car on the lost highway off of Route 40.” She nods, convinced of her plan, speaking hurriedly, “Once you pass the old maple syrup sign, then you’ll know you’re almost there.” She points to her head, “See? I remember! I’m packed.”

Betty continues shaking her head, unable to speak up as her sister avidly continues, “We’re packed.” Polly clenches Betty’s hands, getting increasingly animated, “We’ll go to the farm, just like we planned-”

“Polly, stop!” Betty says at last, firmly dropping her sister's hands. 

Polly tries to read her face, “What’s the matter, Betty?” Betty opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. She rests her hands on Polly’s shoulders. “What? What is it?” Polly insists, worried. 

“Jason…” Betty starts with a dispirited frown, looking up at her sister. 

“What? Did something happen to him?” Polly tilts her head, scared to know the truth. Betty gives her a slight nod. “Something _bad?”_

Betty nods.

Polly looks left and right, horror growing on her face, “Oh, my god…” She sobs, holding onto Betty’s arms, “Oh, my god! I knew it. He’s…” she looks up at Betty, her heart breaking, “He’s…” she gasps for breath. 

Betty takes Polly’s face in her hands, fighting tears of her own, voice soft, “I’m sorry, Polly.” 

“Come with me, young lady,” a stern voice comes from behind them. It’s the nun who checked Betty in and took her to Polly. Betty turns to face her. 

“Now,” the nun demands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos or comment below. I post on Fridays and Sundays (usually late at night).


	8. I'm Not Leaving You

Jughead paces in an upstairs office of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy home for troubled youths. A nun and an orderly had brought him here to wait for Betty. About twenty minutes have passed since, and though he knows Betty can take care of herself, he worries. Jughead pulls out his old black phone, about to send her a text when the sound of a metal door closing makes him look up. He rushes over to the door that looks out on a fluorescent-lit hallway, pulling at the handle. _“Shit,”_ Jughead glowers as he realizes he’s locked in. Yeah, he doesn’t really fit the scene, but he’s not a security risk. Jug peers through the small rectangular window in the door, spotting a bit of gray: Betty’s utility jacket. Betty comes into view, led by a male orderly, the old nun who checked Betty in following close behind. Jughead jiggles the fixed doorknob, yelling through the glass, “Betty!”

Betty turns toward the sound, eyes wide as she spots him, “Jug!” The orderly pushes Betty forward before she can say anything more, leading her to another office. She knows it’s better not to resist. The old nun and orderly leave her inside, where she paces over to the tall, paned window across the room. The dim afternoon light reflects on her face, cold and green like the walls around her. Her phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out, unlocking it to find a message from Jughead:

-

Betty, are you okay?

-

Yeah, Jug  
Why did they put you in there?  
✓ Seen 16:21

-

Idk, but there’s something they don’t want us to know.

-

Agreed.  
✓ Seen 16:21

-

You locked in, too?

-

Not sure  
Let me check  
✓ Seen 16:22

-

The door under discussion flies open to reveal a peacoat-clad Alice Cooper, her mouth pressed into a tight line. She shuts the door firmly behind her. 

_”Mom?"_ Betty scowls, a micro-expression, tucking her phone away, “What are you doing here?”

Alice approaches the desk between them, setting her purse on top of it, curt: “I pay the sisters good money. You think they don’t notify me if Polly gets a visitor?”

Betty sheds a tear, frustrated and afraid. Alice grabs her by the wrist, her manicured nails digging into Betty’s skin, dragging her daughter into the hallway. An orderly unlocks the door to Jughead’s room as they pass it. As mother and daughter enter the main hall of the home’s third floor, Jughead and the orderly follow, Jughead’s hands tucked into his pockets, concerned on Betty’s behalf. Betty hangs her head, causing a pang in Jughead’s chest. Betty glances back at Jughead, setting her jaw as she looks forward again, on a sort of death march. 

Polly appears in a doorway ahead of them, spotting her mother with Betty: “Mom?”

Alice is a deer in the headlights: “Polly.”

Polly steps toward her, in tears, “Jason’s dead? And you didn’t tell me? And you kept me _here?”_ A couple of male orderlies notice Polly, heading toward her. 

Alice reaches out to her oldest daughter, remorseful, “Baby, it’s for your own good.”

The orderlies grab Polly, attempting to drag her away. She struggles against them, furious, utterly betrayed, “Ugh, you always say that, and it’s not true!”

Betty and Jughead watch in horror, tears welling up in Betty's eyes. Jughead spots Betty trembling, wishing he could reach out and touch her, reassure her somehow, but he’s frozen by the scene taking place in front of him. The men in white tug Polly away from Alice. 

Polly screams: “No! Betty!” 

Without a thought, Betty lunges for Polly. Jughead reaches after her, an unthinking protective gesture. Alice does the same, but her gesture's not protective. The orderly catches Jughead’s movement, pushing him back and blocking his way. Jughead rolls his eyes, perturbed, used to being misjudged. 

Polly breaks free of the orderlies as her sister rushes toward her. Betty frantically pulls her into a hug, lowering her voice: “I’m gonna get you out of here, I swear to god!” Betty cradles her sister’s head, crying. Despite his shock and horror, Jughead’s lip twitches. He’s struck by Betty’s protective, reckless love. 

The orderlies regain their hold on Polly. “I love you, Polly,” Betty asserts as they tear her sister away. Alice reaches for Betty’s arm, pulling her back. Her sister shrieks “No!” Polly screams as she’s dragged away. Jughead watches on with horror, while Alice and Betty are left in tears. 

\--

“Just hurry up, Betty,” Alice insists through pursed lips, heading toward their car. Betty follows Jughead under the shelter of the bus stop. Sisters of Quiet Mercy looms behind them.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Jug…” Betty’s tired, her gaze distant.

Jughead rests his hand on her shoulder, “Betty, that was out of your control.” He pauses, waiting for Betty to meet his gaze. She eventually does, anxious, embarrassed. “Polly’s lucky to have a sister like you,” Jug assures her, “You’re willing to fight for her.”

Betty gives him a small nod, not convinced, _“I left Polly here for months...what kind of person does that make me?”_

Jughead sees this in her eyes, squeezing her shoulder. He leans in closer, murmuring, “We’ll get her out of there.” 

This time she nods for real, a sad smile growing on her face. Jughead hesitates, noticing the shine of tears in her eyes and the tracks they’ve left on her face. He sees the unsteady way she stands, and the quivering of her lip. He knows that getting closer to her could ruin him. _“But she needs me,”_ he insists. _“I need her,”_ he admits. He’s been silent for a moment, and Betty’s beginning to notice. Jug gives in to the part of him he'd fought for years on end, pulling her into a gentle but sturdy hug. Her trembling form relaxes in his arms, a sigh falling from her lips, “Thank you, Jughead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Please leave kudos or comments! I update on Fridays and Sundays.


	9. Hey There, Juliet

Another cloudy afternoon in Riverdale, Betty stares into the mirror of her vanity, fiddling with the tiny silver key around her neck. She runs through the conversation she’d had with her parents the night before, following her disheartening trip to Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Her father wasn’t at the drive-in the day Sheriff Keller’s case files were stolen. He also wasn’t with Betty and her mom, who were confronting Grundy and Archie. _“Where was he?”_ She’d accused her father Hal of stealing the case files, but he’d vehemently denied it. At the time, he’d had Betty convinced he was innocent, but now she wasn’t so sure; who else would have done it? The Blossoms? _“They already run Riverdale,”_ she observes, _“they wouldn’t_ need _to.”_

The exchange with her parents had been tense and emotional, eventually pushing Betty to ask if her father had killed Jason Blossom. Knowing his hatred for the Blossoms, his statement that he would do “anything” to protect Polly, and the fact that he was missing the night the sheriff's files were stolen, it wasn’t an impossible leap. Her mother Alice had laughed at her for the thought, and her father had denied it. It didn’t seem like him, but who knows anything anymore? The dark underside of Riverdale is crawling its way out, bit by bit. Her wholesome hometown isn’t safe anymore, and she doesn’t know her family anymore.

Just as this thought crosses her mind, a knock comes at her window. Betty turns to see Jughead atop the ladder leaning against her house, sheepishly smirking through the glass. She flashes a smile in response, delighted to see his friendly face and greatly amused by his roguishness. She leaps up, skipping over to the window. 

Jughead couldn’t sleep last night. His nightmares were worse than usual, and they're normally quite unsettling. In his dreams, he’d relived the day before, namely Polly getting torn away from Betty. He saw the tracks of tears on Betty’s face, and the way her body wavered. _“I need you, Jug,”_ she’d said in his mind, though she’d never said it to his face, _“I need you.”_ Haunted by these visions, after downing several cups of coffee, he’d finally ended up at Betty’s. Maybe by checking in on her, he could ease both of their minds. 

Betty bites her lip, opening the window for him. She’s a vision in white - angelic, even. Jug breaks into a warm smile, “Hey there, Juliet.” Without knowing himself, he looks her up and down, “Nurse off duty?”

Betty simply grins, stepping aside to let him in. 

Jug climbs over her window seat, “You haven’t gone full _Yellow Wallpaper_ on me yet, have you?”

Betty straightens her sweater, letting out a quiet sigh. She slowly paces to her vanity, turning to face her raven-haired companion. “They’re crazy!” she shrugs, at a loss, “My parents are crazy.” She takes a deep breath, beginning to pace again.

“They’re parents. They’re _all_ crazy,” Jughead offers from behind her.

She turns in his direction, pacing past him, “No, but what if...what if Polly is, too? The way she...was talking to me, the way she looked at me...” Betty becomes increasingly agitated, “And now all I can think is: ‘Maybe I’m crazy like they are.’” 

Jughead tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in disagreement. _“You’re not crazy, you’re amazing,”_ he thinks without a single doubt. He steps closer to her, lightly resting a hand on her shoulder, “Hey.”

Betty lets out a deep breath, the racing thoughts dissolving from her mind. Jughead lets go, but leans in, searching Betty’s face with a penetrating gaze, “We’re _all_ crazy.”

Betty chuckles dismissively, but Jughead quickly catches her attention again. There’s an intensity about him that Betty’s never felt before. It makes something twist in her core. “We’re not our parents, Betty,” the boy murmurs, husky and gentle. 

She nods, swallowing, affected by the look in his emerald eyes. 

“We’re not our families,” he concludes, searching Betty’s face. She concedes with a small nod. He’s always been able to comfort her, and with all the time they’ve been spending together, he’s gotten almost too good at it.

They're only inches apart, and Betty's looking at Jug some sort of way. He can't breathe. Fuck, he can't breathe. Jughead swallows, his voice breaking, “Also…” He glances at Betty’s mouth, hesitating. The burning in his heart spreads to his limbs. 

Betty looks up at him with familiar eyes - the girl he’s always wanted, but never deserved. There’s no chance a girl like her would choose someone like him. Even him, a childhood friend, he doesn’t stand a chance, he knows. But the way she stands inches from him, at his mercy once again…

“What?” she asks, heart fluttering, struck by his unusual gaze.

Jughead glances at her lips, her eyes, her lips... Breaths shallow, body tense, his mind races with the thought of her kiss. 

Betty gives him a nervous smile, shifting on her feet, “What?” She glances at his lips.

Jughead spots this quick assent, taking her face in both his hands and pulling her into a tender kiss. He gently parts her lips with his, Betty melting into him with a flutter of her chest. Her hand rests on his sheepskin collar, moving to gently stroke his cheek. Everything is warm, and all their worries fall away. Betty breathes Jug's earthy scent. She feels a shift in her. A fact comes to light as she pulls back, her nose still touching his. _“He wants me, too,”_ she thinks in awe, _“he's never wanted anyone.”_ A blissful smile on her face, she finally opens up her eyes. 

Jughead, eyes still closed, lets out a deep, reverent breath, his usually hefty guard completely absent. He strokes Betty’s jaw with his thumb, wanting to do it all again, sure this was the last kiss Betty would ever give him. The girl in question shifts suddenly, Jughead’s eyes darting open.

“The car,” she whispers, wide-eyed.

Jughead sighs, his expression warm but disapproving. He can't help smirking at her, “Wow.” He gives her a little nod, faux-dramatic, “That’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our _moment?”_

Betty pulls away, distracted. _“No,”_ she answers, brushing past his shoulder as she starts pacing again, “Polly talked about...a car Jason had stashed for them down Route 40, near some sign?” Jughead nods, all business now. Betty returns to him, excitedly looking up to meet his gaze, “If we can find it, we can _confirm_ Polly’s story.”

Jughead’s brow furrows as he ponders it. “Yeah,” he whispers, speaking up, “one way or another.”

Betty glances at his lips, still warm from the kiss. She meets his eyes again in an attempt to persuade him, “I need to know, Juggie.” 

He would do anything she asked.


	10. Have Some Syrup With That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's funny because I added a little non-canon sap.

In the pouring rain and eerie darkness of early evening, Betty and Jughead park FP’s truck off an exit where an abandoned highway, Route 40, begins. They carry silver LED flashlights, moving briskly along the cracking pavement. About fifteen minutes into their search, Betty hunches cautiously in her gray utility jacket, squinting through the rain at the dilapidated farm equipment on the side of the abandoned road. _"We’re close," she observes._

Jughead moves a step ahead, onyx hair falling out of his crown beanie in wavy, wet tendrils. He’s watchful, glancing left and right for the maple syrup sign Polly mentioned. The rain’s started to soak through his denim jacket, but he hardly notices. Mere seconds later, Betty shines her light on a collapsing sign. The paint’s beginning to peel from it, but the red lettering is clear: “Blossom Maple Farms” is written across the bottom, “‘Have Some Syrup with that, Ma’am!’” scrawled beneath it in yellow. Most of the sign depicts a winter scene with a cozy log cabin. A massive maple syrup bottle, about triple the height of the cabin, is painted beside it. 

If Jughead wasn't on the trail of a breakthrough, he’d take the time to laugh, or scoff. Instead, he’s relieved to find at least part of Polly’s story is true. Flashing a relieved smile, he nudges Betty, who rests a hand on his arm as she spots a car under a silver tarp ahead of them. It’s covered in branches for camouflage. Jughead springs into action, sprinting toward the car. Betty follows behind him, going around to the side while Jughead lifts the tarp in the front to check the make and model. _"Volvo,"_ he thinks, _"that's about right."_ The Blossoms are known Volvo-drivers.

They work together, removing the tarp to reveal a beige, late ‘90s sedan. _“It fits,”_ Betty thinks, comforted. Jughead breathlessly opens the trunk, Betty by his side. He props it open, rifling through its contents: suitcases, Jason’s letterman jacket, and about a dozen plastic-wrapped bricks of marijuana.

“What are those?” Betty asks. 

Jughead picks up one of the packages, “Drugs! Betty…”

“Wait!” Betty comes to her senses, “Jughead, put it down!”

Jughead quickly tucks it back under Jason’s jacket, which Betty adjusts.

‘This is evidence,” Betty notes worriedly, “this is all evidence.”

Jughead lets out a breath, “Crap. This whole car is a crime scene.” He pulls out his phone, taking a picture of the trunk’s contents, lips pressed tightly together as he focuses. Rain drips from their hair and down their shoulders. 

“Okay,” Betty mutters as she looks over Jughead’s shoulder at his phone screen. Jughead takes another picture. “We need to get Sheriff Keller, and then we need to get Polly.” 

\--

Betty's unusually quiet. “Polly’s story checks out,” Jughead offers as he pulls onto the highway.

Betty sits in the truck’s middle seat, her shoulder brushing against his, “I can’t believe it, Juggie...my parents almost had me convinced she was crazy.”

“They’re your parents, Betty. It’s understandable.”

Betty looks up at him, surprised. She knows his relationship with his parents has been tense, especially with his father. FP was never a good dad, too busy drinking and stealing to show his son a tangible type of love. He lies to Jughead constantly. Betty figures this would skew his perception. _“Though,”_ she recalls, _“Jug’s never given up on him.”_ It's one of Jughead’s biggest weaknesses, but to Betty, it’s just another thing to admire about him. If he won't give up on his father, maybe he won't give up on her.

Jughead feels Betty's gaze, misreading the thoughtful look on her face, “Once Sheriff Keller has what he needs, we’ll head straight to Polly.”

Betty rests her hands on her lap in an effort to keep herself from clenching them, “She should never have been there. If I'd only talked to her, paid attention…”

“Betty...” Jughead rests his hand over hers. Betty feels a shiver run through her, convincing herself it’s from the rain left on her skin. Jughead catches this, smirking to himself as he watches the road ahead of them. He squeezes her hand in response. She flushes, resting her head on his shoulder to hide. He rubs the back of her hand with his thumb, smiling into the falling rain.

\--

Betty and Jughead descend upon Riverdale High like bats out of hell. With the Variety Show taking place, Sheriff Keller is there to support Kevin. Drenched, Betty and Jughead sprint through the main doors, winded but determined. Betty spots Keller down the hall, running toward him with Jughead on her heels: “Sheriff Keller!”

Keller, stern, walks briskly to meet them, “I got your text. What is it?”

Jughead pulls out his phone, showing Keller one of the photos of Jason’s car. 

“Look, it’s Jason’s jacket,” Betty indicates.

Keller looks somewhat suspicious, but not very - he’s talking to Betty Cooper, after all: “Where’d you get that?”

Jughead’s still breathing hard, his brow furrowing as he looks between Betty and Keller.

“In the trunk of a car with a bunch of his other stuff,” Betty answers quickly. 

“Where’s the car?” Keller asks, his hand on his walkie-talkie. 

Betty and Jughead both exhale. Finally, something good will come of their investigation. 

Or maybe not: as they sigh with relief, the car’s already burning.

\--

Soaking wet, Betty races down the third story hall of Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Jughead tails close behind her, glancing behind his shoulder to see if they’re being followed. The coast is clear, thunder rumbling and lightning striking around the stony prison.

Betty throws open the metal door to Polly’s room. Jughead shares her wide-eyed look as both stare at the window in shock. The glass has been shattered, blood painting the jagged edges left in the sill. Betty narrows her eyes in disbelief, “Polly?”

Jughead’s mouth is agape. Betty strides over to the broken window, Jughead remaining close like always. They both stick their heads through the jagged gap, looking to the ground below, calculating the drop. 

Jughead whispers “oh my god,” searching the distant horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos or comments. I would love to hear your thoughts!


	11. The Closet Under The Stairs

The colors are vivid. Betty, her family, Jughead, Jason Blossom, and Veronica are all sitting around Betty’s dining room table. The ‘60s quality of the scene only adds to the haunting falseness of it. Jughead observes the Thanksgiving spread, watching as Alice Cooper arrives with the turkey, an unreal smile on her face. Betty’s dressed in bright pink, Jughead in a classic Whoopee cap, Veronica in an unusually vivid purple dress. _“What the hell is going on?”_ Jughead wonders.

Veronica claps with excitement for the turkey, the Coopers kiss, and Jughead stares in confusion as Alice kisses her daughter’s cheek. He looks at Jason and Polly’s clasped hands, noting her gaudy engagement ring. Jughead swallows, Betty giggling joyously at the happy couple, taking Jughead’s hand in turn. He feels the cold band of her engagement ring on his skin, the pressure in his chest growing.

Hal offers Jughead the chef’s knife and carving fork. In a deep blue “S” turtleneck, Jughead stands over the turkey in confusion. When’s the last time he had a Thanksgiving turkey? Looking up, he sees his last Thanksgiving in vivid detail: His father slumped in an armchair, nursing another bottle of beer while he stares into their old TV. Ignored. Jughead returns to the Cooper dining room, the knife gone from his hand. _“What the...?”_ Archie approaches from the kitchen, wearing an “R” sweater vest.

“Dude,” Archie narrows his eyes at Jughead, “Why’d you stab me in the back?” Betty and Alice tilt their heads like animatronic dolls. Archie turns from Jughead, the knife Jug lost plunged between his shoulder blades. No blood accompanies it, just the blurring of Jughead’s vision and, thank God, the sound of his alarm.

Jughead stops the alarm on his phone: 5:45. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and slipping on an old pair of flip-flops. He picks up a tube of toothpaste from beside a half-eaten strawberry Pop-Tart, opening the door to the closet under the stairs at Riverdale High. Peering into the hall, he slinks out in his gray “S” t-shirt and sweatpants, shuffling to the boys’ locker room. 

The water falling on Jughead’s skin reminds him of the night before, running through the freezing rain with Betty. The warmth of this shower is a mercy, but Betty’s even more of one. He’d take a million freezing nights with her. Jughead sighs, feeling like a sap, scrubbing shampoo into his loose waves. _"I wish I could do more for her."_ Jughead’s never seen Betty hurt like she has these past few days. He wishes he could kiss the pain right out of her. Cradle her face in his hands and kiss her nice and slow, feeling her relax into him.

Maybe that's too much to ask. Betty likes him, sure, but how long could that really last? Jughead’s from a different world, a different life. He can’t tell her about his dad, or how he’s living. If she knew, everything they’ve built would die under the strain of their differences. 

Even if she didn’t judge him, even if they found a way, how could he let her in? There’s too much pain inside of him. No, he has to be strong. Jughead can’t let her see his demons. He has to look out for her, not become a charity case.

Jughead steps through a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his toned waist. He approaches a sink, briefly appraising his face, _“Could I be something someone wants?”_ He tilts his jaw, staring, coming to his senses with an eye-roll, _“Do I really care?”_ The answer is yes, but Jug ignores this, combing through his messy hair. As he finishes brushing his teeth, a large figure appears in the mirror behind him. Jughead lets out a throaty gasp, whipping around in sheer terror.

Archie smiles, clearly amused.

“Oh!” Jughead laughs, high-pitched with residual fear.

“Whoa,” Archie chuckles, “What’re you doin’ in here?”

Jughead quickly forms a lie, casually sweeping his fingers through his damp hair, “Taking advantage of the school’s state-of-the-art facilities.” It sounds matter-of-fact, but Jughead turns back toward the sink to hide his face.

Archie looks at him in the mirror, “No, really, Jughead, what’re you doin’ in here?”

Jughead throws his toothbrush down with a sigh, thinking _“shit.”_

\--

Archie stands in the doorway of Jughead’s “home,” hands resting on his backpack straps. He enters, crouching to read the titles of a small stack of library books. Mark Twain’s _Huck Finn,_ Kafka’s _Metamorphosis…_ Jughead always was an advanced reader. He spots Jug’s jacket, suspenders, and jeans hanging from hooks alongside extension cords. A silver thermos sits on a sill by the doorway. Jughead uses it for coffee these days. _“How_ long?” Archie insists, staring up at Jughead. He’s more worried than anything else.

Jughead lingers in the doorway, flannel-clad arms crossed, deciding whether or not to lie, “Well...since they shut down the drive-in.”

Archie stands, mouth agape, worried for his childhood friend. 

Jughead continues, deadpan, “That’s where I was living before.”

Archie gawks, incredulous, “Why the hell are you not living at home?” He picks up a can of food from the tiny table by the door. 

Watching Archie read the label, Jughead keeps his tone hollow - a defense mechanism, “Truth is, things aren’t… _good_ at home.” His crossed arms are a comfort, but Jughead can feel the lump rising in his throat. He furrows his brow, fighting the feeling rising in his chest.

Archie sets down the can, looking up at Jughead, “With your dad?”

“Yeah,” Jughead mutters quickly, his gaze darting about. “He kinda fell off the wagon.” He taps his foot, failing to keep the pain from his face, “After _your_ dad fired him, to tell you the truth. Hasn’t had a job since.” Jughead shrugs, “He keeps promising that he’s gonna get his act together, but my mom couldn’t _take_ that roller coaster anymore, so she grabbed Jellybean and…went to live with our grandparents.” 

The schoolbell rings. 

Jughead grabs his messenger bag from a hook just inside the closet, “Come on.”

Archie steps out into the hall, “God, Jug, why didn’t you tell me? And where does your _dad_ think you are?”

Jughead closes the closet door, following Archie, “He thinks I’m couch-surfing.”

“Screw that!” Archie heartily objects, “Live with me!”

Jughead steps in front of Archie, raising a hand in a halting gesture, “This is temporary, man! I’m going to figure something out.” Archie gives him a slight nod. “Just...don’t tell anybody. Especially not Betty.” 

Archie raises his eyebrows, keeping his voice low - there are others in the hall now, “Betty?” He scoffs, “She’s not gonna care. If anyone’s gonna be a snob about it, maybe Veronica.”

Jug almost winces, “Right, well, exactly. Don’t...tell her, either.” 

Jughead leaves. Archie narrows his eyes, _“Why does he care what Betty thinks?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it. Please leave kudos or comments below. Your feedback matters to me!  
> As a reminder, I post every Friday and Sunday.


	12. We Had A Moment

The inner circle meets in the student lounge, Veronica nursing her morning coffee across from Betty. Betty sits in pink on the red couch, Jughead barely present beside her, absently fiddling with his fingers. He’s preoccupied with what she’d think if she found out he’s homeless, and what Archie will say to his father. He really didn’t want his friends knowing his living situation, but at least for now it’s only Archie. When it comes down to it, he’s the least of Jughead’s worries. The redhead mentioned man-spreads on a gray armchair, picking at a coffee cup full of pretzels. Kevin’s across from him, in a red sweater and a matching sassy mood.

Betty continues, frustrated, “My mom and dad don’t want to get the police involved. They don’t want anyone to know that she ran away, or about her ‘shameful condition.’”

“Please,” Veronica shakes her head, “What _decade_ is this?”

“Well, also, since she knew where Jason’s getaway car was, they’re afraid people might think that she burned it, and that if she did…” 

Jughead finishes Betty’s sentence, glowering at the coffee table, “...she could be the murderer, trying to cover her tracks.” 

“Who _did_ burn the car, then?” Archie asks.

Betty turns to him, almost amused by the absurdity of it, “Sheriff Keller says it’s possible someone was _following_ us.” 

Jughead nods.

“Oh, my God.” Veronica marveled, “Honestly guys, we should- we should just move.” 

Betty sighs, motioning with her hands, “Guys, what if Polly’s really hurt?” Jughead perks up. “What if whoever killed Jason is coming after her next?” 

Betty feels Jughead’s arm wrap around her, lightly tugging her in. Her tension falls away as he gently rubs her shoulder. She glances his way, reaching up to touch his hand with hers, a silent thank you.

Archie freezes, staring at them. Veronica blinks, tilting her head. Betty continues stroking Jughead’s fingers. 

“...Betty, even if your parents don’t want to, maybe you _should_ go to the police,” Archie suggests.

Kevin jumps in from across the circle, “Seconded. We can talk to my dad together about how he has to be discreet.”  
Jughead rolls his eyes, lazily fixing an eyelash as he lets go of Betty, “No offense, Kev, but your dad answers to a higher authority than God: the Blossoms.” Kevin rolls his eyes. “They’re the first people that he would tell.”

Ginger, one of Cheryl’s minions, has been loitering by a vending machine behind them. She perks up at their mention of the Blossoms.

“And if there’s anyone to keep this a secret from, it’s the Blossoms,” Betty vows, “They’d twist it around, and go after Polly out of spite!” 

Ginger texts Cheryl.

“How can we help?” Veronica asks, “Tell us, B, and we’ll do it.”

\--

Archie chases Jughead down in the hall, “Hey, Juggie! Remember before, how you said you didn’t want Betty knowing where you were living?” He looks over his shoulder conspiratorially. Jughead stops with a sigh. “Is that because...you and Betty…” Archie squints, unsure.

 _“Why’d you stab me in the back?”_ Archie’s voice echoes in his head. Jughead feels a wave of guilt that humbles him before his friend, “We may have had a moment…”

Archie brushes it aside, “It’s totally cool, I get it. No worries, I’m just curious.”

Jughead reads his old friend’s face, thinking: _“Is it really that easy?”_

Archie gives nothing away, segueing, “Hey, uh, I’ve been thinking about your situation, and I talked to my dad.”

Jughead looks over his shoulder, wide-eyed. He doesn’t need anyone else knowing he’s homeless. 

“He’s willing to give your dad a second chance, but only if FP wants it,” Archie explains, “He’s gonna call him.” Jughead frowns, knowing this new plan’s likelihood of success. Archie forges ahead, amped, “But I think you should talk to him, too. Between the two of us, I think we can really make this thing happen.”

\--

Veronica pulls Betty aside in the hall, “Did I just notice Riverdale High’s very own Holden Caulfield put his arm around around you?” 

Betty, arms crossed, glances over her shoulder with a guilty grin, “Okay, so...the past couple of days, I haven’t been in a great place, emotionally, and…” Veronica nods excitedly. “Jughead was really _there_ for me.”

Veronica lights up, “Oh, my God. Swoon!” 

Betty smiles self-consciously. 

“Okay, in that case, if he helped my girl navigate some turbulent waters…” Veronica fixes her hair, standing straight, looking dramatically into the distance, “Well then, Veronica Lodge approves.” 

Betty smiles, bemused, giggling.

Veronica’s glad to see her happy, “Thatta girl!” She puts her arm around Betty, “Come on, let’s go find your sister.”

Kevin races up to them, distraught, “You guys, oh my god…”

“What?” Veronica asks.

Kevin’s eyes are bugging out of his head, “Cheryl just tweeted #PollyCooperKilledMyBrother, #NowhereToHide, _#SharpenYourPitchforks!”_

Betty takes his phone, reading the tweet, “Oh, no. We need to find Polly before the Blossoms do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos or a comment below! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	13. It's Not Too Late

In the mid-afternoon gloom, Jughead arrives at Sunnyside Trailer Park. The sign for the park is worn, much like the motorhomes lining the dirt road. FP’s mailbox is rusting, a reminder of how long it’s been since Jughead’s mother was home. Jug opens the front door, a beer bottle rolling aside to make way for him. Jughead sighs as he shuts the door, spotting the mail slots on the wall, stuffed with crumpled bills. Scowling, he takes in the mess: empty bottles on TV trays, an ashtray full of cigarette stubs, and...right, the new TV. 

As Jughead enters the dated living room, FP, coughing, stumbles through a narrow hall and toward the kitchen. He carries a half-full glass of whiskey in his hand. Jughead’s heart sinks as he spots his dad through the window into the kitchen. FP motions to him, bags under his eyes and a sickly pallor to his skin, “The prodigal son returns.” 

Jughead acknowledges this with a frown, eyeing the sink full of dirty dishes. 

FP sighs, leaving his whiskey glass on the kitchen counter, “How you doin’?” He motions to Jughead again, giving his son a series of little nods, “You look good.” 

Jughead’s stiff, “I’m hanging in there.” 

FP puts a whiskey bottle away in the cabinet, “Yeah?”

“I came by to ask…” Jughead rolls his eyes, “If you would consider going back to work…” He maintains his composure, facing his dad, “with Fred Andrews.”

FP scoffs, putting away another bottle, “Yeah, he called me. I said no.”

 _“Great,”_ Jughead thinks with a surge of frustration, _“Just great.”_

FP continues putting bottles away to keep himself busy. The truth is, he’s never been very good at talking to his kids, “He _fired_ me, Jughead.” FP hangs onto the door of the teal cabinet now full of booze, gesturing with his free hand, “What kind of man would I be if I went back, hat in hand?”

Jughead bites his lip, letting out a huff, “For starters? A man with a job, trying to fix his family.” 

“Talk to your mom,” FP slams the cabinet door. 

Jughead rolls his eyes, chewing his lip. Jughead does his best to hide it, but his father scares him. He recalls those times when FP was much drunker than now - drunk enough to be dangerous. Cursing, shouting, throwing things, and Jughead caught in the crossfire. He’s cleaned up too much broken glass. That’s why he had to leave. 

His father isn’t himself these days. He’s a sad, unstable shell. Jughead doesn’t like it, but his mom was right to leave. She and Jellybean deserve better. Jughead? _“Not so much, I guess.”_

FP turns to his son, “She’s the one who gave up on us, took your sister.”

Jughead doesn’t want to hear it, “Can you _please-_ just go _see_ Mr. Andrews? He’s willing to give you another chance.” 

FP breaks into a hollow laugh, “Oh, he’s _willing,_ huh? That’s generous of ‘im, after all the _crap_ he pulled on me.” FP heads out of the kitchen.

Jughead follows, glowering, “Dad…” 

FP lands in a chair next to a metal table covered in empty bottles. He sighs, tired, slumping in the seat. 

“Mom and Jellybean could come home. _I_ could come home,” Jughead prompts. FP gives him a glance. Jughead reaches for the front door, “It’s not too late.” He’s gone in an instant.

\--

Betty’s gathered a group of students from Riverdale High to help her look for her sister. Her inner circle of friends, Josie and the Pussycats, her parents, and a few football players meet in the center of Eversgreen Forest. Betty and Jughead stand side-by-side, addressing the volunteers.

Betty's worried, but motivated, “Okay, the Sisters of Quiet Mercy are due north.” She motions north, “the getaway car was west, on the old Route 40.” Betty motions west. 

“The closest bus station is east, headed towards Sweetwater," Jughead adds, "If Polly wanted to leave Riverdale without anyone seeing her, she probably would have left through right-”

“Right here," Betty interrupts, "Eversgreen Forest.”

Jughead watches her, struck by something warm he can't put into words. Betty springs into action, and Jughead wakes from his haze, helping her lead the pack onto the trails. Soon, her parents split off, then Veronica and Kevin, followed by the football players. Val, Josie, Archie, Betty, and Jughead stick together. Archie approaches Betty as they follow the river, “Hey, all this stuff with your sister...I’m sorry you had to go through that, and I wasn’t there to help you.”

“It’s okay, Arch, you’re here now.” _“...And I didn’t exactly reach out, either,”_ Betty reflects. She knows she's been distant from him. Betty hasn't felt okay about what Archie said to her that one night: she was “too good for him.” It couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Her mother grooms her to be perfect, but that doesn’t mean she is. She’s pushed to an impossible standard - the kind that makes you dig into your palms for quick relief. 

Being honest with herself, as soon as things started to come out about Polly, when Jughead joined her investigation, Archie fell to the back of her mind. Really, Jughead’s been helping her more than enough. He has a way with her no one else does. No matter how agitated she becomes or how strongly she wants to clench her fists, just a touch from him and it falls away. No matter how outlandish her plans, how strong her emotions, Jughead listens. He reassures her in his gentle way. Betty smiles to herself as Archie goes on. She nods, pretending to listen to what he’s saying. The sensation of Jughead’s eyes on the back of her head makes her shiver. No, she'll never remember what Archie said.

\--

They’ve searched for hours, and Polly hasn’t been found. The good news is she’s a Cooper. She’s resourceful, and Betty knows not to underestimate her. Still, Betty’s worried to death. The blood on that window, the three-story drop...it doesn’t look good for her sister. 

As the search party disperses, Jughead pulls Betty aside, “You alright?”

“My injured sister’s a murder suspect, and could be lost in the forest at night with a killer on the loose…I’m great, Jug.” Betty almost rolls her eyes.

Jughead's impressed. Betty Cooper sass is rare. Maybe he’s rubbing off on her, “Yeah, sorry, stupid question.” He spots a tear on Betty's cheek, and reaches for her shoulder, “Hey, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay,” Betty insists, wiping her eyes, “I just want to go home.”

“Let me take you.” They’re not far from her house, and he can't leave her yet.

“You don’t have to do that, Jug…”

“I want to, Betty,” he murmurs, timid.

Despite everything, Betty’s heart flutters, “Okay.”

"Betty," Alice appears from another path, "We're going to the First Baptist Church."

"What? Mom, why?"

"We need to get ahead of this story." Alice narrows her eyes at Jughead, "I presume you'll be joining us, _Jug-_ head?"

Jug gives her a cautious nod. Betty needs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thanks for reading! I'll be posting frequently in the next couple of weeks in hopes of catching up to the present by the season 2 premiere date. Please leave kudos or comments. I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	14. A United Front

In Eversgreen Forest, Penelope Blossom had threatened to “expose” Polly as a murderer. Alice Cooper’s not going to let that happen. Sitting in a church pew with Betty, she powders her nose for the news cameras that are about to arrive. 

“Mom, is this a good idea?” Betty asks, “I thought we were trying to _contain_ this.”

Alice is confident, “Well, we _were,_ Elizabeth. But now that the cat’s out of the bag, we’re in full-on damage control mode. The Blossoms have their version of events, but they don’t know the whole story, at least not yet. And that gives us a momentary advantage.” She quickly touches up her pink lipstick.

Betty shakes her head, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Oh, you can,” Alice insists, “And you will.”

Betty silently scoffs. Her mother will go to ridiculous lengths to protect their family’s image. Alice wants to protect Polly from those who would harm her, but is that her primary motive? Betty hates that she’s unsure.

“You’ll be standing right beside me and your father, a united front,” Alice motions around the church, “against the holiest of backdrops. Let’s see the Blossoms _try_ to smear us then.”

Betty lets out a heavy sigh, _“Here we go.”_

\--

“There’s been a swirl of rumors today about our daughter, Polly,” Alice tells the crowd outside the church, Hal a bulwark at one shoulder, Betty shrinking away at the other, “And we’re standing here to tell you that they’re all false.” The small assembly of reporters, the Blossoms, and Betty’s friends all listen to the woman in beige. 

Betty's retreating into her utility jacket.

“Yes, Polly was seeking treatment in a private care facility,” Mother Cooper continues, “and she was under strict observation, even at the time of Jason Blossom’s death.”

Betty hangs her head, her mascara lightly smudged from now-dry tears, a distant look her only protection from the prying eyes watching her. She doesn’t want to be here, doing this. It's a waste of time. She could be looking for Polly instead of being her mother’s pawn again. 

Jughead catches Betty’s gaze, a look of concern on his face. _“At least Jug is here,”_ she thinks. He helped her find the truth. He knows she’s twisted up inside, and he’ll be there when this is over. Knowing that makes it easier to breathe.

“When she found out about the murder, she was _beside_ herself with grief,” Alice recounts. In the center of the crowd, Cheryl Blossom rolls her eyes. Alice tactfully keeps her tone even and approachable, “You see, my daughter, Polly, is pregnant with Jason Blossom’s baby.”

The Blossoms look at each other in horror, Cheryl’s mouth falling open. The crowd chatters around them.

“Polly wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Alice vows as the Blossoms push through the crowd, “let alone the father of her unborn _child.”_

The Blossoms angrily flee the scene.

Alice looks directly into the camera lens of the local news, stirring up her emotions, “Polly, darling, if you’re watching this, please come home.”

\--

Rain comes with the twilight. Jughead and Betty stroll along a cobblestone sidewalk, passing by a park with a wrought-iron fence. Jughead had linked his fingers with Betty’s as soon as they'd escaped the press conference. The moment she felt his presence by her side, much of Betty’s anxiety left her. Holding Jughead's hand makes her feel warm in a new way. 

“Hey, you didn’t have to walk me home,” Betty remarks.

Jughead squints at her, amused. He’s going to take care of her now; doesn’t she know that? “Uh, there’s a killer on the loose, remember?” 

His favorite Hitchcock blonde smirks, rolling her eyes as they turn the corner onto her street. 

“Besides, isn’t this what…you know...” He smiles nervously, struggling. Normally, he’s good with words, but this...this is something new, “What...people like us, who have gone through what we’ve gone through, do?”

Betty squeezes his hand in the affirmative, distracted by her worries. 

“What is it?” Jughead asks softly, “I mean, besides everything.” 

Betty shakes her head, her heart aching, “She wouldn’t have run away if it wasn’t for me, Jug.”

Jughead won't have this. “Betty, your _parents_ were the ones lying to her, and keeping her in the dark. You did the right thing telling her the truth."

She breaks into a small smile, “It’s funny, this isn’t the first time Polly’s run away from home.” Jughead smirks, sensing a kindred soul of sorts. Betty’s smile grows as she recalls the distant memory, “When she was nine, she and my mom got in this _huge_ fight, and she disappeared for _hours._ The whole neighborhood was out looking for her.”

“How far did she get?” Jughead inquires. 

Betty freezes in her tracks. 

Jughead stops with her, “What?”

Betty turns to him in excited realization. She grabs his face, pressing into him and giving him a warm kiss, which he readily sinks into. She lets go too soon, “ _Thank you,_ for walking me home.”

Jughead slips into a satisfied smirk.

Betty’s wired, “I’ll call you later. Goodnight!” 

Before Jug can respond, Betty’s jogging down the sidewalk. Jughead smiles after her, _“This girl will be the death of me.”_ He wouldn’t want it any other way.

Minutes later, Betty finds her sister in the attic of their house. Polly tells Betty that their parents want her to give the baby up for adoption, and begs her to keep her presence secret so she can keep it. Betty agrees. She thinks she failed Polly before and vows to prevent as much trouble for her sister as she can now. 

Maybe she can reason with her parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you're enjoying this. I'll be posting a lot in the next couple weeks in hopes of catching up to the present before the Season 2 premiere. I'd love to hear your thoughts! Please leave kudos or comments below for my eternal gratitude.


	15. Who's Betty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this chapter is late! To make up for it, I have a tip: If you read this chapter while listening to Lambs In Clover (the song that plays in Jughead's ep. 7 dream sequence), it adds to it in a weird way.

It’s FP’s first day back at work with Fred Andrews. Jughead and Archie are waiting inside the office after school, Archie bouncing a tennis ball on the wall while Jughead slumps in a chair.

After a bout of bored silence, Archie speaks up, “We should ask them if we can go to Pop’s to celebrate.”

Jughead smiles, “Archie, I haven’t eaten since three, you know I could down about ten cheeseburgers right now.”

Archie chuckles, “So we’re agreed?”

“We’re agreed,” Jughead confirms.

It won’t be long until their dads are done, but the minutes feel like hours. Jughead hates to be a cliché, but in these quiet moments, he can’t stop thinking about Betty - namely, her kiss goodbye the night before. _“Get yourself together, man,”_ he tells himself, struggling to think of something, anything else when the door finally opens. Fred and FP come inside, chatting about rebar. Archie juggles the tennis ball in his hand, watching them enter. 

Jughead’s so damn glad his dad took his advice for once. It’s great to see him on his feet again. Jug’s not sure how long it’ll last, but he’ll enjoy it while it does. To be honest, this new development’s made him more cheerful than he’s been in awhile. He looks up at his dad with a smile, “How was your first day back?”

FP approaches the boys. Fred follows him, cheerful, “Oh, it was great! Your dad is the hardest-working guy on the crew, as always.” 

FP tosses his hardhat to Jughead, chuckling to himself. Jughead puts it on over his beanie, smoothly segueing, “Oh, in that case, why don’t we celebrate to mark the occasion?”

Archie backs him up as planned, “Yeah, Juggie and I were thinking we could have dinner or something.”

Fred shifts on his feet, “Uh, tonight? I don’t know…”

“I’m game if you’re game,” FP offers, leaning against a filing cabinet, “On me.”

Fred sighs, relenting. What harm could it really do? Archie grins, bouncing the tennis ball toward his dad, who catches it. Maybe things can get better.

\--

They all sit by the jukebox at Pop’s, FP leaning comfortably on the seat next to Fred, the pair of them chatting about the good old days while Jug munches on his leftover fries. The boys are glad to see their fathers bonding again.

FP laughs, “Anyway...we spent the whole summer fixing up that old VW bus.”

Fred nods, “Yeah.” 

“Remember what we called it, Fred?”

They speak in unison, FP full of life Jughead hasn’t seen in a long time, “The Shaggin’ Wagon!”

Fred, FP, and Archie laugh, Jughead shaking his head with a smirk. 

FP addresses Archie, “This was before your dad had game. Senior year, he started a band, and then the girls were all over him.”

Archie’s eyebrows fly up. He’s never heard _this_ before. Jughead looks over at him, equally impressed.

“We were awful,” Fred admits.

FP chuckles heartily, “Yeah, yeah, we were.” His tone becomes more serious, “But it was great. Best time of my life.” He looks over at Fred with a nostalgic smile. 

“You know, your dad was what is commonly known as a BMOC, Jughead,” Fred divulges with a smile. 

Jughead perks up.

FP dismisses it, “Come on, the hell I was.”

“In what way?” Jughead asks, devouring another fry. 

“Football, for one,” Fred recalls. 

FP sighs, looking at Jughead. His son’s not interested in this stuff. 

Fred goes on, “He single-handedly defeated our arch-rivals, the Baxter High Ravens.”

Jughead smirks, raising his eyebrows at his father. FP doesn’t talk about his school days much, but Jughead always knew he missed them. 

“He doesn’t care about that stuff, Fred,” FP interjects, “Football, sports. Takes after his mom in that respect.” He turns to Jughead, eyes clearer than they’ve been in months, “and I mean that as a compliment.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. _“Yeah, right,”_ he thinks, still glad his dad’s trying.

A little pride slips into FP’s voice, “I’d rather see you spending your time writing, thinking up stories. You still do that?” 

Jughead doesn’t respond. His dad’s never cared about his writing before. Why start now?

“Nose in a book? Typing away?” FP presses.

Archie jumps in, “Yeah, yeah! Jughead works on the school paper with Betty.”

 _“Thanks, Archie,”_ Jughead thinks sarcastically. He doesn’t need his dad in his business. It may be harsh, but if he doesn’t know about these things, he can’t screw them up for him.

FP perks up, “Betty? Ooh.” He raps his knuckles on the table, leaning in toward Jughead, “Who is Betty? Is that your girlfriend?”

Now they’re down a rabbit hole. Betty doesn’t know what things are like with Jughead’s dad, and he doesn’t need her finding out. He loves his dad, he always will, but he’s been a mess for a long time now - not to mention, he’s a _serpent._ How would the most perfect girl on the North Side react to his father being the head serpent? _“Wild guess: not well,”_ he predicts. When it comes down to it, keeping Betty away from FP is the best chance he has to keep her in his life.

Archie breaks the short silence, “She’s…” He hesitates. What is Betty to Jughead, anyway?

Jughead cuts in, sparing himself, and hopefully what he has with Betty, “I...want to know more about...the band! What was the, uh...what was the _name_ of the band?”

That gets the old boys talking again. Jughead’s saved things for now. It’s a relief, but it makes him think...what if, by some miracle, things work out with Betty, and she asks to meet his dad? He’s doing better, sure, but he’s still the reason their family fell apart. He’s still an alcoholic, and he _just_ got his job back. Things could turn at any moment. And, even with all the changes his father’s making, he’s...well… _dangerous._ Her whole life, Betty’s been sheltered from the things Jughead grew up with. Can he really introduce her to them, to his father?

 _“We’ll see,”_ Jughead decides uneasily. For now, that’s as good as it’s gonna get.

\--

FP’s exhausted by the time he lands on the couch. Jughead helps him lie down, sitting by his legs. 

The serpent grunts in discomfort - he’s getting old, “Wow. Oh, I’ll sleep right here, on this couch. You can have the bedroom.”

Jughead moves out of the way of his feet, “I’m not gonna take your bed, Dad.”

FP dismisses that, “It wouldn’t be the first time I crashed on this thing.” 

Jughead starts unlacing his father’s boots. 

“Ah, thank you,” FP murmurs, “If you stay...are you? You gonna stay?”

They’ve had a good day. Jughead nods quickly, still working at FP’s boot. 

FP’s fading out, “Yeah...don’t be late for school.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Jughead assures him, “I’m already way ahead in all my classes.” With some effort, he tugs off the boot, “Hey, I talked to Mom. She got a job at a call center to pay for her online classes.” He starts on his dad’s other boot, “I guess she’s finally goin’ after her GED. _Jellybean_ is helping her study.” Jughead smiles to himself, working on his dad’s laces, “By the way, Jellybean wants to go by _J.B.,_ now. She thinks it sounds cooler. She’s ten years old,” he tugs off the boot, “and listens to Pink Floyd on vinyl, I don’t think she could _get_ any cooler.” God, he’s proud of her. 

Jughead looks over at his dad only to find he’s asleep. _“That’s okay,”_ he thinks to himself, _“You did good today, Dad.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it. I'll be posting frequently leading up to the Season 2 premiere, so keep your eyes peeled. Please leave kudos or comments below! Your feedback means a lot to me.
> 
> If you have some extra time, I have an important question for you. Would you enjoy seeing gifs of the scenes in the text, or do you think that would detract from the story?


	16. Playing With Matches

At the start of fifth period, Jughead slinks into the doorway of the _Blue and Gold_ newsroom. Sheriff Keller and Principal Weatherbee are standing in front of the murder board. 

Jughead enters cautiously, confused, looking back and forth between them. “Hey,” he says as casually as he can.

Keller eyes him, “Hey.”

Jug sets down his messenger bag, looking at the murder board, a sense of unease washing over him, “Uh...what’s up?”

Keller’s calm, but stern, “I’m gonna need you to come down to the station with me.”

 _“Shit,”_ Jughead thinks, his stomach doing flips. A thousand scenarios at the station flash through his head, none of them good. He meets Keller’s gaze, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The two men escort him out of the room and down the crowded hallway. The students lining the halls stare as he passes. Jughead keeps his head down, brow furrowed as he wonders what exactly they think he did, and what his options are. Archie and Betty are chatting by Betty’s locker. Archie freezes as soon as he spots their favorite outcast. Betty turns to look, her mouth falling open as she realizes what’s happening. _“No, no!”_ she frets, _“He didn’t do anything wrong!”_

As he passes his friends, Jughead looks their way, addressing them urgently, “Call my dad.”

“Yeah! Yeah, we will!” Archie assures him.

“Of course!” Betty vows.

\--

Jughead sits across from Sheriff Keller, his arms crossed over his chest, brow heavily furrowed. He stares at the metal table between them. 

Keller folds his hands on the table, still calm, “Forensics came back on the car.” Jughead looks up. “Despite the fire, we were able to pull a pair of prints off the trunk. Yours and Betty’s. This is, of course, no surprise.” He opens up a red folder, his tone becoming stern, “But, what did surprise me was _this.”_ The Sheriff turns the folder toward Jughead, revealing a document with Jughead’s photo, fingerprints, and a description of an event, “Your prints were on file, from an incident that happened six years ago, where you spent some time with the Riverdale Juvenile Delinquent Center…” 

Jughead nods to himself, _“This again.”_ His “record” had gotten him into some hot water before, but if what he thinks is happening _is_ happening… He’s not a _murderer_ because he was a curious kid.

“For, uh…” Keller reads the page, “‘attempting to burn down Riverdale Elementary School.’”

Jughead glowers, cutting into Keller’s narrative, “I was playing with matches.” He meets the man’s gaze, “And that’s a pretty tenuous connection for a sheriff.”

Keller’s hardly phased, “Well...Principal Weatherbee also allowed me to have a look at your school records.”

Jughead bites his lip, looking down. Of course it came to this. He’s an easy target.

Keller opens another folder, leafing through its contents, “You have a long and rough history, Mr. Jones. Bullied a lot.”

He’s never let that define him, “Yeah, my name is _Jughead.”_

Keller squints at him, “By the football team, in particular. I can only assume that would have included Jason Blossom.”

Jughead nods slightly, positive now that he’s the fall guy for Jason’s murder. He can’t exactly blame him: it’s easy to pin things on the outsider.

“So, how ‘bout this?” Keller presses, “How ‘bout you tell me your whereabouts on the week of July 11th?”

Jughead frees his bottom lip from his teeth, shaking his head as he looks up at Keller, “This is crazy. You think I…”

“Jughead,” Keller steps in, “a kid like you, raised on the wrong side of the tracks by a deadbeat dad, bullied by kids like Jason Blossom...I mean, who wouldn’t want to lash out at that?”

Jughead bites his lip to fight back tears, “I’m not talking to you anymore.” His voice breaks, “I want a lawyer.”

Keller closes his file, leaving the interrogation room.

\--

About an hour later, Jughead’s still worrying at his lip. _“This is nothing,”_ he tells himself, but he doesn’t believe it. He could go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. Jughead imagines himself in juvie again. Eventually, he’d be left behind by his friends, by Betty…He blinks back tears, rushing to wipe his eyes as the metal door swings open. 

Betty enters tentatively, wide-eyed, sitting down across from him, “Jug…” She doesn’t know what else to say. No doubt, he’s thinking the same things she is. He doesn’t need to hear them from her.

Jughead’s trembling. If they weren’t being watched, Betty would tug him into a hug. That’s what he needs, she can see it in his pained expression. He needs security. 

_“I can’t lose her,”_ Jughead despairs, glancing at the beautiful blonde across from him. _“What if she thinks I did it?”_ he frets. _“Even if she doesn’t, she’ll find out everything now.”_

Betty worriedly watches him go through these thoughts, waiting for him to speak. 

He shifts in his chair, looking down at the floor, sniffling. _“Soon, she’ll know my dad’s an alcoholic and a criminal. Archie will tell her how I’ve been living. Her parents will tell her she’s not safe with me.”_ He swallows, submitting to his most intrusive thought: _“She’s going to leave me.”_ Jug gives a small shake of his head, resigning himself to that fate. He bites his lip in an attempt to stop its trembling. His eyes shine with tears as he crosses his arms on the table, voice weak as he's suffocated by dread, “I didn’t do it, Betty. You have to believe me.”

“Of course!” It’s not a question to her. She reaches across the table, resting her hands on one of his crossed arms, “I was with you, and I know who you are.” 

Jughead’s gaze grows distant, “Well, those _Paradise Lost_ kids went to death row because they wore black, and they listened to Metallica.” He takes in a deep breath, “I don’t want to become a scapegoat.”

Betty’s determined, “I’m not going to let that happen.” She pulls his hand toward her, gripping it tighter. Jughead lets out a sharp sigh. Betty leans in, exchanging looks with him, “All the evidence against you is circumstantial. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

Jughead sighs thankfully, closing his eyes and nodding as her optimism reaches him. This is as good as he’s felt since he’s been here. He sniffles, his brow furrowing as another thought reaches him, “Is my dad here?”

Betty forces a positive tone, hoping the truth will reassure him enough, “Archie’s here, with his dad.” Jughead frowns, his eyes darting around as he wonders where his father is. Betty’s apologetic, “No one knows where your dad is.”

Jughead slips into a dead-eyed frown, nodding to himself, _“Of course.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you like it. Please leave kudos or comments below. Your thoughts matter to me!


	17. I'll Go With You

Keller leans against a counter, arms crossed as he speaks with Fred Andrews, “Jughead’s not helpin’ himself in there. I asked him for an alibi, and he just gave me lip.”

Fred nods soberly, making a split-second decision, “He was working for me.”

Archie perks up nearby, watching as his dad lies on Jughead’s behalf.

Fred glances at his son, “Yeah, the week of July 11th, was it? Yeah, I had him tearing out some drywall for me.”

“You can provide me with documentation to support that?” Keller inquires.

Fred nods, “I have to check my time cards.”

Keller looks at Archie to confirm his father’s story. Archie nods enthusiastically. He’s not especially convincing, but he’s always been a good kid. Keller squints at Fred.

\--

Fred, Archie, Betty, and Jughead leave the station together. Jughead looks up only to spot his father jogging toward them. _“World’s Greatest Dad, FP Jones II,”_ he mocks in an attempt to lighten his mood. Honestly, his dad showing up now...it’s too little, too late. As FP gets closer, Jughead can see his disheveled appearance and how he's stumbling. _“Drinking again,”_ Jughead observes, swallowing at the ache in his throat.

“Jughead! I’m sorry, I came as soon as I got your messages, I...my phone, the friggin’ battery. I forgot to plug it in last night,” FP grimaces.

Archie and Betty hang back. Fred stays where he is. Jughead sighs, defensive. He’s heard excuses from his father for too long.

“What happened?” FP asks.

Jughead almost interrupts him, “Nothing. It’s fine _now.”_ He motions to Fred, “Mr. Andrews took care of it.” 

FP points at Jughead, beginning to spit poison, “What jacked-up crap they accuse you of in there, huh? Those bastards tryin’ to throw you in jail like they did your old man? Well, _screw_ that!” He’s livid, “I will rip Keller a new one for trying to pull that…” 

FP storms toward the station, only to be stopped by Fred, who remains calm, “FP, settle down.”

They struggle for a second before FP pushes him off, pissed, “Hey, hey! He is _my_ son! He is _my_ son, Fred! You’d do the same for your boy.” He plows ahead.

Jughead reaches out, grabbing a fistful of his dad’s shirt, stopping him in his tracks. FP looks at him in shock. “Dad…” His eyes are filled with tears, voice low, “Don’t...make things worse.” He drops to a whisper, “Please.”

FP nods, seeing Jughead through his drunken haze, realizing what he’s doing. Once he relaxes, Jughead lets go his shirt. FP backs away, jaded, “Yeah...alright, then.” He starts back toward his truck, vaguely motioning Jughead’s way as he moves past Fred, “You, uh...coming home, with me?”

That’s the first and last thing Jughead wants. He wants to help his father. He feels like he should take care of him. But he doesn’t want to be there when he crashes and burns. He’s seen it too many times. Jug can’t take much more of it.

Archie nervously speaks up. FP’s a loose cannon, after all, “He- he can stay with us, Mr. Jones. We already offered.”

Jughead doesn’t engage.

FP looks to Jug, “Is that what you want?”

 _“Yeah,”_ he thinks, but he couldn’t tell him that. 

FP nods, tearing up: message received. “Maybe that’s for the best,” he admits, “if uh, if you don’t mind, Fred.”

Fred turns toward FP, “Whatever you want, FP.” He gives Jughead a sympathetic look, “It’s between the two of you.”

Jughead nods halfheartedly, looking worn down. It’s clear what he has to do. “I’ll...I’ll go with you, Dad.” He sniffles, heading over to his father, the air around the group tense.

FP rests his hands on Jughead’s shoulders, reading his son’s sullen face, “Son, listen to me.” He takes a deep breath, leaning down to meet Jughead’s downcast gaze. He takes hold of Jughead’s lapels, speaking softly, “I’m gonna do what you want, to get my act together.”

Jughead slips into a deep frown, his lower lip trembling. He meets his father’s gaze, mistrusting. His dad’s made countless empty promises. He’s not sure how many more he can take. 

FP’s desperate to reconnect with his son, and tries his best to paint a happy picture for their future, “I’m gonna get your mom and Jellybean home, so we’re all under the same roof. I promise. But I...I just need a little time.”

Jughead looks away. It takes all his willpower not to cry. He has to be strong, for his father...for Betty, Fred, and Archie standing behind him. For himself. If not, he might just fall apart. 

FP forges ahead, “Not a lot, not long, a month, two at the most.” He spots Jughead avoiding him, grabbing his face, “Hey.” 

Jughead’s forced to meet his gaze, feeling like a trapped animal. 

“And then we’ll be back on track, alright?” FP asks.

Jughead just stares at him. What can he say? Declarations like this hold no meaning anymore. Maybe...maybe they’re past repairing things.

FP frowns, “You, uh…” he touches Jughead’s face, “you believe that, don’t you?” He needs someone to believe in him, ‘cause he hardly believes in himself. 

Jughead can see that. He trembles, eyes red, using all his willpower not to cry. It’s time to be a man. If his dad’s gonna get better, he has to be a man, not a mess. He has to support him, no matter what, no matter how much things are broken. His face is screaming “no.” No, he doesn’t believe that Jellybean and Mom will come home. He doesn’t believe his dad will stop drinking. This man has let him down like it’s his job. 

But he needs him. Jughead finally speaks up, voice low, “Yeah, I believe you, dad.”

FP touches his forehead to Jughead’s. Jughead leans forward, pulling his dad into a hug. Jug needs him, too. Jughead sighs, convincing himself to give his father one more chance. FP’s put him through hell, but he’ll hang onto this sliver of hope as long as he can. 

FP’s surprised by the hug, unfamiliar with this territory. He hasn’t hugged Jug in God knows how long, and that’s exactly why Jughead needs it. He taps the back of his son’s head, “Alright.” Pulling back, he playfully punches Jughead. Drifting unsteadily toward his truck, FP leaves his son behind. 

Betty rushes up to Jughead, carefully touching his face to make sure he’s okay. She takes his arm, leading him away from the scene. 

\--

As they turn a corner by a park, Betty addresses the issue haunting him, “Jug, I’m not scared because your dad’s off the wagon again. I know he’s a good person. All that matters to me is that you're okay.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Jughead murmurs, “I was…”

“Afraid of what I’d think?”

Jughead nods, “Betty-” 

“I’m not gonna judge you based on your family, Jug,” she interjects. Betty tilts her head his way with a knowing smile. 

Jughead smirks in response. He doesn’t remember what he wanted to say, but he knows what he feels. She’s done more for him today than his father has in years. She called his dad, she showed up, and she was honest with him. She even gave him a spark of hope. Jughead couldn't ask for more, and yet she's giving him that. She's giving his dad a chance.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, touched, breaking into a small, vulnerable smile. 

Betty knows what that means. It’s not just for helping him - it’s for sticking around. He’s been a pessimist for a long time. Aside from himself, Betty’s the only person who can change that. Reflecting on this, and all he's been through, Betty leaps up on her toes, taking his face and kissing him softly. 

He freezes at first, surprised, but leans into it, cupping her face in his hands. He melts into her, losing himself in the kiss. His lips are soft, and taste a little sweet. Betty smiles against them, stroking his jaw as her lips move to his ear, “I’m here, Jughead,” she vows softly.

Jughead flushes, breaking into a rare smile. He wraps his arms around Betty, burying his face in her shoulder. She slips her fingers under the edge of his beanie, stroking the silky hair at the nape of his neck. Jughead shivers, pulling her closer. He wishes they could stay like this forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you like it. A new chapter will be up today or tomorrow.  
> Please leave kudos or comments below. I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	18. It's Just A Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Jughead sings Blind Pilot.

Archie unfurls a blow-up mattress. Jughead’s sitting on the edge of his bed, strumming Archie’s guitar by the light of a small table lamp. He sings under his breath, remembering the lightest moment of his miserable day:

“Oh, darkness comes,  
But you got a way like no other one,  
I'll keep it where my black keeps light.”

Despite his soft strumming and musical murmurs, Jughead’s been quiet ever since he showed up on Archie’s doorstep. He’s had a hell of a day. At least Archie finally knows what’s going on with him, and can _do_ something about it. 

Archie looks over at his friend, “I’m sorry about my dad...and _your_ dad.”

Jughead scrunches his nose dismissively, Betty's optimism lingering in him, “I’m not givin’ up on him, Arch.” He glances at Archie, “Not yet.”

“You think he’ll show up for work tomorrow?”

Jughead lightly scoffs, “You never know.” He raises his eyebrows for punctuation, "I _hope.”_ Turning back to the guitar in his hands, he retreats into his mind again.

\--

It’s late at Archie’s house. Jughead’s slumped over the end of Archie’s bed, the redhead in a chair beside him. They stare intently at the TV screen as they mash the buttons on their controllers. NPCs scream, swords clash, and Archie and Jughead are bickering like brothers. 

“You gotta stop blowing me up,” Jughead urges.

Archie interrupts him with a shake of his head, “You’re going the wrong way…you’re doin’ the-”

“What are you doing?!” Jughead demands.

Both their characters die in a hazy electrical blast. 

“Come on!” Archie sighs, setting down his controller. Someone else might have thrown it. It’s funny how even though Archie’s become a tank of muscle, he’s still the gentle-hearted kid Jug grew up with. 

“You’re the one who keeps accidentally killing me,” Jughead retorts quickly, bemused despite his irritation. 

“War is hell, Jug,” Archie claims, trying not to smile at his frustration. 

Jughead scoffs, overdoing an eye-roll, “No, Archie, hell is other people.”

Archie laughs with a toothy grin as a knock comes at the door. Fred steps inside, “Hey. guys, getting pretty late, and...whoa! It’s kinda ripe in here,” he fans his arm through the musty air, “Someone wanna open a window?”

Archie gets up, “I got it.”

“You settling in, Jug?” Fred asks, tucking his hands into his denim pockets. 

“Oh, completely,” Jughead discloses, glancing Archie’s way as he opens the window, “It’s like Archie and I are just roommates in a college dorm.”

“Oh, great,” Fred looks Archie’s way as he turns around, “What does that make me, the RA?”

Archie laughs, picking a pile of games up off the floor, “No, you’re the third roommate.”

Fred chuckles, “Alright, guys. I got a big day tomorrow.”

Archie’s landed back in his chair, excited for his dad, “Yeah, breaking ground on the SoDale project, right?”

“Yeah, indeed we are.” Fred turns to Jug, sympathetic, “Sorry, ‘cause I know it’s kind of a sore spot with you, Jughead, about the drive-in.”

It hurts to think about, but Fred’s always been good to him. He and his guys deserve a big project like this. Jughead offers a small shrug, “As long as you build something beautiful in its place.” 

“Well, I don’t know about beautiful, but, uh...it’s gonna be big.” Fred nods soberly, “Night, guys.”

“Night, Dad,” Archie echoes. Fred closes the door behind him. Archie regrets that Jughead lost the drive-in, but he hopes this project will help his dad’s company. Things have been a little tight there lately. 

\--

A ritual and thus a must, the inner circle meet in the student lounge the following morning - plus a couple add-ons: Valerie and Cheryl. Polly’s been holed up at the Lodge’s suite for a couple of days, and Betty’s not sure how to help her. She sits on the red couch beside Jughead, a newer tradition but one no less important.

Betty's agitated, “Polly’s convinced no one wants her baby.”

Kevin speaks up, coffee in hand, shade at the ready, “Besides, of course, the child-snatching Blossom monsters.” 

Cheryl raises an eyebrow. 

“No offense, Cheryl,” he adds weakly. She’s the queen of the school, after all. 

“None taken,” she sneers. 

Jughead leans lazily against the arm of the couch, trying and failing to solve Polly’s predicament, “So, your mom and dad want Polly but not the baby, and the Blossoms want the baby and not Polly.” 

Betty nods.

The beanie-clad bad boy quirks his brow, exasperated, “That’s a true Gordian knot.”

Betty agrees, “It’s an impossible situation.”

Veronica speaks up beside her, leaning in, “Betty, come on. An impossible situation is being invited to the _Vanity Flair_ Oscar party and Elton John’s Oscar party on the same night.” 

Kevin grabs her shoulder - he needs details. She turns to side-bar with him, “Which happened to me one year - I know.” Kevin breaks into a star-struck grin as Veronica returns to Betty, “This is merely an annoying situation. But luckily, I have been percolating on an idea, hellishly simple in its conception.” She smirks, beginning to light up with pride, “What if my mom and I were to host a baby shower?” She casts a smug smile on the group. 

Cheryl perks up, “Count me in.”

Ronnie addresses Betty, intense, “You want Polly to feel loved and supported, right?”

“Yeah,” Betty squints, skeptical, “but ideally by her own parents.”

“Okay, so, baby steps, girl,” Veronica suggests. “Get Polly and your parents in the same room, in a public setting where they can’t fight, and, _voila,_ let the healing begin.”

A smirk plays at Jughead’s lips, “Am I expected to come to this thing?”

“Of course!” Veronica insists, “You’re Betty’s boyfriend, so…” She takes a casual sip of her coffee. 

A moment of awkward silence passes. Betty and Jughead exchange amused, nervous looks.

“Oh my god, you guys, relax.” They’re cute, but Veronica has no patience for this: “It’s just a word that starts with the letter ‘B.’”

Betty’s smirk has evolved into a coy smile. She looks away from Jughead, shy; things are still new between them. They haven’t had that talk yet, but feeling his gaze on her, imagining his smile, she knows she wants to be his. Even like this, without touching him or even meeting his gaze, Betty feels warm and safe in a way she can’t with anyone else. Jughead’s kept her standing through all of this. 

“Betty, what do you say?” Veronica asks, looking up through Dior-painted lashes.

Betty smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm going to be publishing chapters as much as I can (while retaining my sanity) leading up to the Season 2 premiere. Keep your eyes peeled, and please leave kudos or comments below!


	19. Worse Than Vandals

When Archie found out his dad’s crew left the SoDale project, he rounded up his best bros to help the old man out. Now he’s pushing a wheelbarrow full of concrete blocks, Jughead strolling by his side in a wifebeater. Just now, Archie’s realizing that Jughead also had a recent transformation. Under the loose flannels, his friend’s gained some muscle, too. Not to the same degree, but still, they’re both becoming men.

Jughead’s in a playful mood, “Pretty handy with that wheelbarrow, Archie.” Archie’s smile grows as he goes on, “You know, if the whole music thing doesn’t pan out, you can always have...” he gestures to the wheelbarrow, “manual labor as a fallback.”

 _“Very funny,”_ Archie thinks sarcastically, though it actually is. It’s always funny when Jug’s in a mischievous mood, “Don’t even joke, I did this all summer long, remember?” He shakes his head, “My dad loves this kind of work, and I love him, but…”

Jughead pulls his work gloves off, “No, I know. Your dad’s path is not for you. Trust me, I get it.” He wrote the book on it, for God’s sake - or he will one day.

Archie loves his dad. It’s right in his voice, “He works his ass off for me, bro. Never asks for anything, always has my back, even when I mess up. So, if having _his_ back means I’ve gotta haul some rocks, then bring it on!”

“Agreed. Your dad’s got my back, too...” He thinks of FP, “more than some people.”

Archie sets down the wheelbarrow, “Exactly.”

Their shift ends at dusk. The boys drop off their hard hats and gloves, hanging out in the office for sodas - and banter pandering to their masculinity, as Jughead would see it. Moose runs back outside to grab his phone. A minute or so after he leaves, Jughead, Archie, and the other guys hear banging outside. The lights outside the office trailer flicker out. Everyone busts out the door, running toward the sound of a fight. They spot two goons wailing on Moose with… _”crowbars?”_ Jughead wonders in shock. They speed away in their truck before he can get a good look at them. Moose is crumpled up on the ground, rolling over to face the group running his way. 

“Moose, are you okay?!” Archie shouts as they reach him. 

Everyone crowds around the big guy as Fred kneels beside him, “Stay down. We’ll get you some help.” 

“Who did this to you, Moose?” Jughead inquires. 

“No clue,” Moose looks to Fred, “But they said...as long as we keep working, they’re gonna keep comin’ back.”

\--

Keller arrives in his squad car, lights flashing. He slams the door behind him, “What the hell happened?”

The teens sit on big blocks of concrete behind Fred, Moose looking a little shaken, icing his head. Jughead stands behind the group, arms crossed, postured like a hawk. He’s an investigator now. His Construction Bro™ persona, as he’d like to call it, is in the dust with Moose’s blood. This was no random incident, and Jug’s gonna find out what he can.

Fred runs Keller through it, “Moose over there, he caught a couple of guys working over my equipment with a crowbar, and they...got the drop on him.”

The sheriff squints, “Who were they, vandals?”

Fred’s got a chip on his shoulder, “Cliff Blossom’s made it abundantly clear he would love nothing more than to see this whole project go belly-up.”

Keller almost scoffs, “I doubt that Blossom’s gonna hire some thugs to bust up your site and beat up some teenagers.”

Archie stands, “Maybe it wasn’t him.” 

Jughead’s getting worried, _“What does he mean?”_

“I mean, this is Serpent territory, right?” Archie clarifies.

 _“No, that’s enough. This is over.”_ It’s not the Serpents; they wouldn’t do this. Jughead moves Archie’s way to stop him.

“Maybe it was them,” Archie conjectures, “pissed that they had to leave ‘cause of this project.”

Kevin weighs in, skeptical, “Uh...Serpents?” He doesn’t want Joaquin getting wrapped up in this if it isn’t true. 

“Yeah,” Archie’s convinced.

Jughead makes it to Archie’s shoulder, shutting him down as casually as he can manage. He doesn’t need anyone knowing he has real ties to a Southside gang, “When I worked at the drive-in, the Serpents _never_ bugged me.” 

Keller squints at Moose, who’s still nursing his head, “Did you see any snake tattoos, anything on their jackets?”

“It happened pretty fast.”

Jughead’s heart’s pounding in his chest. Do most of them think the Serpents did it? Moose doesn’t seem to be making assumptions, but Jug wouldn’t put it past Keller, especially since his wrongful arrest. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to Blossom,” Keller offers, addressing Archie, “but, I mean, I don’t think we’re gonna get anywhere unless we can I.D. these guys.” 

“That is such bull!” Archie rebuffs, “If this was Clifford Blossom asking for help, you would say yes.” 

Keller doesn’t respond, keeping his expression in check, but looking down. _“Archie’s right,”_ Jughead observes, reading the sheriff’s face.

“Archie…” Fred tries.

Archie’s had it with this classist, elitist crap. His best friend gets the short end of it all the time, and now it's turned on his dad, “What, Dad? It’s true!”

Fred’s firm, the “shut up, son” implied: “It’s also not helping.”

Archie turns away, riled, _“If Cliff Blossom hired those Serpents, we have to_ do _something about it.”_

\--

The following day, the Scooby Gang meets at Pop’s for dinner. Archie gets there late, still agitated about what happened at the site.

Betty’s pressed into Jughead’s side, her voice low as she looks at Archie with classic doe-eyed concern, “Archie, Jughead just told us what happened yesterday.”

Veronica winces beside him, “Though, I checked out at the words ‘construction’ and ‘site.'”

Archie looks to Jughead, fired up, “Moose and I are going to the Southside to find those Serpents. You in?”

Jughead forgets how to breathe. They can’t know his dad’s a Serpent - especially not Betty.

“Whoa,” Betty looks at Jughead, a question in her voice, “Hey, you didn’t say it was the _Serpents_ who beat Moose up.”

Jughead glares at Archie, his tone sharp, “‘Cause we don’t know that for a _fact.”_ No way the Serpents messed with Fred Andrews. His dad and Fred are better than they’ve been in a long time. Why would he ruin that? 

Archie’s in this deep already, looking to Jughead urgently, “Well, it’s still worth a shot if it might help my dad.” 

How’s he supposed to argue with that? What does he say? Archie's dad saved him from _homelessness._

“Kevin’s boyfriend can get us in,” Archie explains.

“Get you in where?” Veronica asks.

“To some bar, where the Serpents hang out.”

Betty blinks, her brow furrowing. No, this is dangerous. They’re not doing this, but before she can tell Archie, he’s at it again.

“If Moose spots them, we call Sheriff Keller and get these goons _arrested.”_

 _“Fuck, I’m in it over my head,”_ Jughead panics, barely keeping his cool façade. This is a living nightmare. Is it too late now to tell Archie the truth? No, Jughead can’t do that. No way. Not even Archie. _No one_ can know.

“Archie,” Betty starts, Jughead looking her way in silent horror, “the Serpents are dangerous.” Jughead nods. He has to keep up appearances, and...it’s not totally untrue. “They’re drug dealers,” Betty adds with a disgusted frown. 

“What?” Jughead turns to her, “Says who?”

Betty stares at him in impatient disbelief, “Polly. Remember? Trev told us that Jason was dealing drugs...? It was for the Serpents.”

Jughead stares down at the table, _“She’s right.”_ What does that mean for him? For his dad? Did FP sell drugs to Jason Blossom?

Archie doesn’t leave him another second to think, “You heard my dad, Jughead. Clifford Blossom is trying to _torpedo_ him. Sheriff Keller basically blew him off, right in front of us. Somebody needs to do something.”

 _“How do I play it?”_ Jughead frets. He can’t show up there with Archie, but he can’t defend the Serpents any more than he has. 

Archie leaps up: It's time.

Jughead opts for a vague warning as Archie slips on his letterman jacket - what else can he do? “Archie, going into that bar is a _bad_ idea.” | _"Especially in that blaring beacon screaming 'punch me,'"_ Jughead thinks of the jacket.

It makes no difference - his mind’s made up. Archie looks to his friend, “Jughead, are you coming with me or not?”

The Serpent’s son just stares at him. His hands are tied. He can’t go there. They’ll recognize him before he even makes it into the building. 

Archie stares him down before taking off, “Thanks for having my back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you like it so far. If you have any thoughts or questions, please leave them in the comments! I'll be updating daily (or more!) leading up to the Season 2 premiere.


	20. Son of a Serpent

Of course Archie ended up causing a scene at the White Wyrm. As a result, none other than FP Jones gets Kevin, Moose and him kicked out. The Serpent stops Archie outside, “Not you, Red, you stay.” 

Archie’s friends hang back. “I’m good,” he tells them, and they jet off. Archie turns to FP.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” FP demands.

Archie’s indignant, even though Jug’s dad kept him from a nasty beating, “Looking for the _thugs_ that trashed my dad’s equipment. We figured it was the Serpents, angry for getting kicked off their land.” FP scoffs at this. “But now that I know _you’re_ a Serpent, I’m thinking this is _personal.”_

FP chuckles in disbelief as Archie raises his voice, “Going after my dad, his...his company, this is payback, right? For when he _fired_ you?”

FP’s more amused than anything. What does this kid know? “Man, you’ve got a bigger imagination than Jughead,” he laughs, “and that’s sayin’ something.”

“This isn’t a joke!” Archie interrupts, “My dad could lose everything!”

FP can’t believe this crap, “What- you think I’m responsible? That I’ve been, what, waiting all these years for a chance to get back at your old man? No.” FP shakes his head, “No, kid, life’s too short. You don’t know that now, but you will.”

Wait- he knows the sound of that engine. Archie turns around to see his dad’s truck screeching to a halt. Fred’s pissed.

“I called him,” FP divulges, “the second you stepped foot in the bar.” 

Fred approaches the pair, tucking his hands into his pockets, “Get in the truck, Archie.” 

Archie obeys.

\--

Jughead can’t believe he’s helping prepare a baby shower. What has love done to him? Why is he, Jughead Jones, self-proclaimed non-conformist, subjecting himself to this archaic, grossly pastel tradition? Betty’s by the fireplace, hanging up an overpriced banner. She smiles at him from across the room, her eyes glistening with excitement. _“Oh, right, that’s why,”_ he remembers. She looks beautiful in pink. Pastels aren’t so bad when they’re on his favorite Hitchcock blonde. He throws her a small smirk in response, absent-mindedly putting out plates and napkins.

“Jughead, could you bring out the cupcake tower for me?” Veronica asks, “I want it on that table behind the couch.”

 _“Good God,”_ Jughead thinks, _“my masculinity died the minute I walked in here...now it's rolling in its grave.”_

“Sure,” Jughead agrees with a not-so-subtle eye-roll. The Manhattan Princess has yet to win him over, but she’s not so bad. She’s helping Polly, after all, and that’s lightened Betty’s spirits.

Guests begin entering as Jughead crosses the room with the tower of pink, frilly sugar held at arm’s length. He brings the cupcakes over to the table Veronica mentioned, finding Betty standing there. As he plants the sweets down, Betty can’t help but smile up at him. She wraps her arms around one of his, doting, “You’re sweet to be here.” 

She turns to fix the ribbon atop the tower, her tone warm, “I know this isn’t exactly your scene.”

“What?!” Jughead demands sarcastically, “Organizing a _baby shower?_ It’s totally on my bucket list.”

\--

“So what, you’re a Serpent now?” Fred demands of FP, “Thought you left that behind.”

FP’s almost cheerful, “A guy’s gotta make a living.” He pauses, “And not a lot of people would hire me, after-” 

“Right,” Fred interrupts, done with his excuses, “it’s my fault you run with criminals that rough up teenagers and trash my equipment.”

FP speaks to him like a friend, “You really think I’d come after you? That I’d put you and your kid in danger after everything you’ve done for my boy?”

Fred looks away. He has a point.

“Look, I’m...sorry for your troubles. How bad is it?”

Fred lifts his chin, “I got no crew, I got no cash.” He shakes his head, “Never been worse.”

“Let me ask around,” FP offers, “see if any of my guys have heard who it could be.”

Fred’s cooled down, “I’d appreciate that.”

FP slaps his arm, “You’ll pull through, Fred. You always do.” He makes his way back into the bar, speaking over his shoulder as he goes, “But you might want to keep tabs on that boy of yours.”

Speak of the devil - Archie’s bolted.

\--

The presents are almost all unwrapped when Archie bursts through the door. He passes by the circle of women, to Jughead, who’s hanging on the outskirts of the group.

Archie comes straight out with it, keeping his voice down, “You were protecting him. That’s why you didn’t tell me.”

“Relax,” Jughead insists, starting to feel light-headed, “What happened?”

Betty approaches them, Veronica close behind her, “Archie…”

He turns to her, “Did you know that Jughead’s father is a Serpent?”

 _“No,”_ Jughead panics as he turns to her. _“No, no no.”_ He can already feel the world crumbling down around him. She’ll leave him for this. She’s too _good._

They lock gazes, frozen in time. Betty’s surprised more than anything, but a hint of hurt reaches her voice, “No.” 

Jughead looks away, wondering what she thinks, what it means...now, he regrets ever lying to her. 

Archie's not done, “That’s why he tried to stop me from going to the bar, so I wouldn’t find out. After _everything_ my dad has done for you…”

This is it. It’s not just Betty. They’re all going to leave him, just like Mom and Jellybean. To everyone but him, his dad’s a poison. Jughead's voice wavers, “Archie, I can explain, okay?”

Veronica interrupts, “But _not_ right now! This is Polly’s day, so you two need to check yourselves.” She’s not taking no for an answer, “I mean it.”

“Archie…” Jughead whispers. 

Archie glares in response, “No, _save_ it.” 

“Come on,” Veronica leads Archie out. 

_“Why would you lie to me?”_ Betty wonders as she looks at Jughead. It's like she doesn’t even know him.

In his fear, _”How could I be with someone like you?”_ is what Jughead sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you're enjoying it. I'll be posting at least daily until the Season 2 premiere (and probably a little after). Please leave kudos or comments below. Your thoughts matter a lot to me!


	21. Praying For A Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter than usual. Enjoy!

After the cleanup of the party, Jughead waits anxiously on an armchair in the Lodge sitting room. Betty will hear him out, at least. When they were close as kids, his dad wasn’t a Serpent, and wasn’t as much of an alcoholic. FP’s changed, and Betty never knew about those changes. No one did, and Jughead thought he wanted it that way. 

If they didn’t know, no one could reject him for what his dad was, or the venom his family’s demise cultivated in him. But the lying and secrecy have been a double-edged sword. Jughead could never get close to people in fear of them finding out the truth. So, he hung around the outskirts and molded his fear into a persona. Playing the guy who doesn’t care for people, he has an excuse to stay away. 

But he doesn’t want to anymore. Betty’s reached through that. She’s tugged out some of the softness in him. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be warm with joy and love; he’d even started to enjoy the pain. Reflecting on this, Jughead begins to tear up. 

What will he do if she leaves his life? What will he be when that light is gone? And even if, by a miracle, she stays with his broken mess, he’s lied to the most important person in his life. He wipes a tear from his cheek, sniffling. _“No, keep it together.”_ He has to be strong to get through this conversation with any semblance of dignity.

Betty opens the door behind him. He stands, turning to face her. As she closes it, Jughead adjusts his red sweater, preparing for his impending doom.

“Polly’s finally asleep,” Betty comments. She steps over to him with an awkwardness about her, “What a mess.”

There’s a moment of hesitation between them. Jughead’s eyes are still shining with tears. His voice breaks as he softly speaks, unable to meet her gaze, “I should have told you about my dad, when I had the chance.”

“So, why didn’t you?” Betty asks as gently as she can. She can see how much this is hurting him. 

He studies her eyes. “I was ashamed,” Jughead admits, his gaze falling to the carpet as he finishes the thought in his head, _“And afraid.”_

He doesn’t have to say it, Betty can see it on his face. Jug’s worried about scaring her away. She almost wants to shake him, tell him there’s nothing he could do that would make her want to leave him. 

She steps closer, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “Jughead,” she meets his worried gaze, “if we’re gonna be together,” she rests her other hand over his, “I wanna know who you are. All of it.”

Jughead’s struggling not to cry. This girl is an angel, “Okay.”

Betty nods, her gaze full of love, “Okay.” She has a thought, “But Juggy, we should talk to your dad.” 

Jughead swallows the lump in his throat, nodding. She’s right. 

“He might know something about Jason.”

“Alright,” Jughead whispers, pulling her close, leading her out with a hand on her back.

\--

Jughead unlocks his dad’s door as dogs bark in a nearby yard. He barges in, FP bolting upright, a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

“Jughead!” his father exclaims, startled. He sets his whiskey on the counter between the kitchen and living room, the ball-game on behind him.

“Dad,” Jughead motions to Betty, “Betty Cooper.”

Betty smiles.

“Betty, this is my dad.” 

Betty’s sweet as pie despite the smell of alcohol. “Hi, Mr. Jones,” she shakes his hand, “nice to meet you, officially.”

“And you, and you. Um…” FP looks around, moving some pillows out of the way on the couch by the TV, “Why don’t you guys sit down?”

Jughead only takes a step forward, Betty tucked behind his shoulder. He hesitates, “This...isn’t really a social call.”

“No,” FP turns to face them, “I didn’t expect it would be after Archie showed up at the bar.”

Betty’s watching FP closely. She’s not sure what to make of him. He looks a bit disheveled, and it’s clear he’s been drinking. He’s civil, though. 

Jughead cuts right to the chase, “We know the Serpents had some sort of drug thing going on with Jason Blossom.”

“What?” FP feigns confusion, stress slipping into his tone, “Where’d you hear that?” 

“Jason’s girlfriend.” 

“My sister,” Betty politely interjects.

FP tilts his head, letting out a heavy sigh. _“What’s the point?”_ he thinks. These kids are on the mark. He rubs his hands over his face, determining how to explain it. Finally, he speaks. “The kid needed some money...to get away.” He sits down. 

Jughead shifts on his feet, frustrated. Really? Did it have to be true?

FP puts his foot up on the coffee table, reluctant to tell them this, “A clean-cut kid like that, no one’s gonna suspect him of running, so we helped him, he helped us.”

Betty’s heart feels heavy. What if Jason’s murder had something to do with the drugs? What if Polly had been hurt because of them? She tries to push these thoughts away.

“Jeez, Dad. Did you tell the cops that?” Jughead presses.

FP laughs under his breath, “What do you think?”

Betty looks away, _“So, definitely a criminal.”_

“Well, they know now,” Jughead reveals, “Polly told ‘em.” 

FP’s worried, now. 

“So, if they haven’t been by yet, they will be.” Jughead shakes his head, walking away to get some space. 

Betty steps forward, taking over, “Did you ever speak to Jason? Personally?”

“My guys gave him some product,” FP offers, failing to meet her gaze. “When it wasn’t delivered, we figured he’d took off with our stash, until…”

Jughead returns to Betty’s side. 

“Until Jason’s body was found, at Sweetwater River,” Betty finishes, jaded, sharing looks with Jughead. Betty takes in a breath, but stops herself - she’s not going to ask the next logical question.

FP looks at her, noticing what’s happening. She’s a good kid, that Cooper girl, doesn’t want to alienate a stranger. He looks to Jughead next. His son, on the other hand, he’s got something to ask. Jughead’s easy to read like that, especially glowering at him like he is. 

FP tilts his head, raising his eyebrows at Jug, “Anything else you wanna ask?”

“Did you have anything to do with Jason Blossom’s death?” Jughead bites his lip. He doesn’t want to be asking this, but he has to know. 

FP looks him in the eye, tearing up. He’s quiet, “You really think I could do that?”

“It’s the dark ages, Dad,” Jughead holds his gaze, his gut is twisting, “I don’t really know what to _think_ anymore.”

FP looks away, reflecting on his shit parenting. If he’d done better, Jughead wouldn’t be asking him this. “I’m not a perfect father, Jughead, no gettin’ around that, but...” he shakes his head, fighting back tears. 

Betty wonders if this is why Jughead’s so defensive. His father refuses to cry, too.

FP looks at his son, “I’m no killer.”

Jughead squints, reading his face. He knows his dad: he’s telling the truth. At least he’s not a killer. 

\--

As they leave his father’s trailer behind, Jughead feels Betty’s hand take his. He stops. She glances at the trailer before stepping so close to him her clothes are brushing his, searching his eyes, “Do you believe him?” 

“I do,” he tells her softly. 

Betty nods. 

Jughead scoffs, shaking his head. He doesn’t know why he’s asking this. It’s Betty Cooper, the most moral person he knows. His dad’s a known criminal, a drunk, what’s she gonna say? Still, he has to know, “Do you?”

Betty shakes her head, spotting his skepticism. Doesn’t he know by now? She trusts his word above anyone else’s. _“Oh, no you don’t,”_ she thinks, reaching up cradle his face just under the crook of his jaw. “I believe _you,_ Jughead,” she clarifies, her thumbs stroking his cheeks.

A heat burns in his chest as those words reach his ears. Jughead’s falling and flying all at once. She trusts him, unequivocally, even when the whole world wouldn’t. His brow furrows as he sinks into the aching feeling he’s developed in these past couple weeks: love, he guesses. 

He glances at her lips, and doesn’t take a second to think, grabbing her face and pulling her in for a firm but gentle kiss. She smiles into it, tasting icing as he presses close to her. She loves the way her heart leaps when he kisses her. She feels like she’s floating, suspended by his warm touch and slow kiss. 

The weight on Jughead’s shoulders slips away. He takes in a shaky breath, tilting his head to kiss her another way, hungry to feel close to her, to drink in her bright light. Betty breaks away, but Jughead’s not having that. He pulls her back to him for one more kiss, lingering in the warmth of it. Betty smiles at his closed eyes and blissful expression: _“Do I really make him that happy?”_

\--

Jughead builds up his courage, slinking into Archie’s doorway. They have to talk. Archie’s facing away, curled up in his desk chair, strumming halfheartedly at his guitar. He hears Jughead enter, stopping. Jughead hurt him today. 

Jug sits down in the chair behind him, Archie setting down his guitar and spinning around to face his friend. 

“I should have trusted you,” Jughead acknowledges, “There’s no excuse.”

Archie cups his hands together by his chin, listening somewhat reluctantly. 

Jughead’s earnest, “I was afraid...that the Serpents and my dad were the ones doing those messed up things.” He takes a breath, “I didn’t wanna believe that was _true.”_

Archie’s beginning to fold.

His first words come out breathlessly, “I mean...” Jughead sighs, “He’s my _dad,_ Archie.”

Archie nods, sympathetic, “I get that. I do. But, Jughead, you can talk to me about _anything.”_

Jughead swallows. Archie’s right. Why didn’t he trust him? He has to stop letting fear control him.

“You’re like…” Archie hesitates, looking down at his hands, growing quiet, “You’re like my brother.”

Jughead can’t help but smirk, “Nice bro-whisper, Archie.”

Archie laughs at himself. 

“You _are_ my brother,” Jughead tells him, “And I’m here for you and your dad. So what can I do?”

Archie tells him the truth: “Pray for a miracle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'll be posting a lot leading up to the Wednesday Season 2 premiere, so keep your eyes out! Please leave kudos or comments below. I'd love to hear what you think!


	22. Come Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll be posting at least every day until the Season 2 premiere (and probably a bit after). Please leave kudos or comments below. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW! ;)

Jughead quietly enters Betty’s room, Betty shutting the door behind her in the glistening moonlight. “Jug…” she murmurs, only to be stopped by his hungry lips. He presses her back to the door, his hands firm, possessive on her face. He licks at the seam of her lips; she opens them to him, their tongues meeting in a hurried kiss. Her hands slip under his shirt, gripping at his skin. He lets out a soft groan, stepping back to take her in.

She bites her lip, looking up at him from under her lashes as she reaches for the hem of her shirt. Jughead stares in awe as she pulls it off, abandoning it on the floor. Her bra is pastel pink, lacy, and…

 _“Translucent,”_ Jughead observes in awe. 

Betty crooks her finger, motioning for him to come to her.

He obeys, swallowing, stepping closer. He half reaches up to touch her, meeting her gaze with a question in his eyes. 

She nods. At first, he cups her breasts in his hands, feeling them. He smirks, curious: _“What would happen if…”_ He strokes his thumbs over her nipples, Betty letting in a sharp breath in response. He feels a hand tug on his belt, finding his hips pressed to hers. Betty pulls at the hem of his shirt, looking pleadingly up at him. He tears it off without a second thought, one of his thumbs returning to stroke a sensitive rosebud. 

He revels in the way his simple strokes break her breaths unevenly. His other hand ventures up her neck, snaking into her satin hair as his mouth moves to her neck. Betty gasps as she feels him press a kiss onto her throat, her fingers on his back digging into his skin as she drags him as close to her as possible. He groans, feeling her low heat against the bulge growing in his pants.

“Betty…” he whispers against her throat, peppering kisses there, his hand moving to her other breast, toying with her previously neglected nipple. He hears her breath shudder - God, he loves that sound. Betty pulls his beanie off; it falls unceremoniously to the floor, her fingers running through his hair. He shivers. 

“Jughead…” Betty whispers.

“Jughead.” Why’s her voice changing?

“Jughead!” Archie shakes him. Jughead flies up, beads of sweat on his forehead. He blinks, wiping them off, squinting up at his friend, “Archie?”

“You alright, Jug? Looked like you were having a bad dream.”

“Oh, sorry…” Jughead rubs his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it. We should get up, anyway.”

Jughead hesitates, “Arch...” Archie looks at him, “Betty sent me a text last night…it looked pretty bad." _Lie._ "I think I’m gonna go check on her.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem, man! I’ll tell my dad you had to leave early. Want me to grab you anything?”

“Maybe one of those muffins? Actually, two...three of those muffins.”

Archie chuckles, “So, four, then. You want them buttered, too?”

Jughead snorts, nodding sarcastically.

\--

Climbing the ladder by Betty’s window, Jughead tries to shake that dream from his mind. He doesn’t expect anything like that from Betty, and finds it a bit tragic that he’s become that much more of a teenage stereotype. 

Betty’s writing in her diary when he knocks on her window. She slams it shut, leaping up to open the window for him. He climbs inside, closing it behind him only to notice the worried look on her face.

“Betty, what is it?” Jughead asks. 

She sighs, leading him over to her bed, sitting down with him.

“Polly won’t answer my calls or e-mails,” Betty frets, “I mean, I _get_ that she doesn’t want to talk to my dad, but what- what did _I_ do wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Jughead tells her firmly, letting out a heavy sigh, unable to keep his gaze from wandering over her, “We’ll figure it out.” He glances at her lips, slipping into a little smirk, “Come here.” He reaches out to her, sliding his hand up her thigh as she draws close. She cradles his face as their lips meet. 

The door opens, surprising them both. Jughead whips around to spot Alice Cooper strutting into the room, a big smile on her face, “Up and at ‘em! Breakfast is ready.” 

_“Really, Mom?”_ Betty thinks. “I’m not hungry,” she quips.

“Oh, enough is _enough,_ Elizabeth,” Alice insists, “we have a big week ahead of us!”

Betty and Jughead share a look.

Alice heads over to Betty’s dresser, folding her clothes, “The Blossoms have always been a thorn in our side, ever since, according to your milquetoast father, Great-Grandpappy Blossom killed Great-Grandpappy Cooper.” She’s less cheer and more vengeance, now, “Well, it’s about time someone brings them to heel.” She motions in the air, envisioning it in front of her, “I’m writing a searing, no-holds-barred takedown of their clan.”

Betty’s sick of this poison, “And you think _that’s_ gonna bring Polly home?”

Jughead takes Betty’s side with a supportive glance in her direction.

Alice is starting to doubt her plan a bit, “Maybe, maybe not...but it’ll make me feel better.” Betty glowers at her. “Word has it that the Blossom board of trustees has descended upon Riverdale like a cabal of vampires. Why? Now, that’s a story.”

Jughead’s starting to see Betty in her mother.

Alice narrows her eyes, “I just need to find a way in,” 


	23. Don't Let Go

Betty pulls her math book out of her locker, stuffing it into her backpack, agitated. She digs for the extra hair tie she always leaves in there - no luck. Returning to the fluorescent light of the hall, a dark form has suddenly appeared. She gasps, “Jug!”

Jughead smiles sheepishly, “Sorry. Thought you might want this.” He holds up a beige hair tie. 

“Jug, you are my _hero,”_ Betty gushes.

He smirks as she begins tying her hair up, “Something like that.” 

When they make it into the lounge, Veronica greets them excitedly, “Just in time! We’re celebrating!” She pops a strawberry into her mouth.

“Archie was just telling us how he’s going to some super-exclusive music program this summer,” Kevin divulges.

Betty sits down in the one empty armchair, Jughead perching on the arm of it. 

Archie’s trying not to grin, his hand in a bag of ranch tortilla chips, “Maybe. If it happens, though, it would be huge for me.”

Jughead squints, intrigued, “Do you have to audition for it?”

“Well, not exactly,” Archie explains, “Mrs. Blossom came by earlier and said she’d put a good word in for me.”

“Amazing!” Kevin exclaims.

Veronica speaks at the same time, “Terrifying.” 

They squint at each other incredulously.

“Uh-huh,” Jughead says, already considering the repercussions, “What’s _she_ getting out of it?”

“I told her I’d take Cheryl to their family’s tree-tapping thing. I already talked to Valerie, and she’s cool with it.”

Jughead’s eyebrows flicker up, his tone dry, “Cool with you being a gigolo now?”

Veronica laughs.

“I’m doing someone a favor for my music, Jughead,” Archie insists, “I need to make connections outside of Riverdale.”

Veronica nods, “That’s the way of the world. It’s all about connections.” She looks Jughead’s way, “But...Jughead’s right. These kinds of favors always come with a price tag. Betty, back me up here.”

Betty shrugs, “I think it’s a great idea.”

“Thank you, Betty,” Archie smiles. 

“Yeah,” Betty leans in, “and while you’re there, would you talk to Polly for me?” Archie nods. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Definitely,” Archie promises.

Betty smiles warmly, “Thank you.”

Archie turns to Veronica, “And don’t worry, Ronnie, I can take care of myself.”

Veronica points her strawberry-tipped fork at him, “Famous last words, Archiekins.” 

She pops the strawberry into her mouth, Archie’s gaze lingering on the action.

After Betty receives Archie’s report of the tree-tapping, she’s shocked to hear her sister looks happy with the Blossoms. The most logical next step is to talk to Cheryl. Jughead walks her to school, which makes what she’s about to do less daunting. As soon as they walk into the school, they hear Cheryl’s voice carrying down the hall. Betty follows it, Jughead close behind her, ever her protector. Cheryl’s chatting with a group of Vixens, gossiping, “Obviously, she’s jealous…”

“Cheryl,” the group parts before Betty’s impatient tone, “can we have a word?”

Cheryl sighs dramatically, motioning to her entourage, “Scatter, my Vixens.” As Jughead watches them leave through narrowed eyes, Cheryl addresses Betty, arms crossed, “Yes, Betty? What is it?”

“Polly.” She’s already losing her nerve, glancing up at Jughead for help. He nods, and she forges ahead, stepping into Cheryl’s space, “Look, I don’t know what kind of Stockholm syndrome spell you’ve cast on her, but I want to talk to my sister.”

The subtlest smirk plays at Jughead’s lips as he watches Betty, thinking: _“That’s my girl.”_

“Let’s not fight,” Cheryl suggests half-genuinely, a false smile forming on her face, “especially when we should be celebrating!”

“Why?” Jughead interjects, “What happened?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Cheryl asks, sickly-sweet as she smiles at Betty, “Dr. Patel just confirmed it this morning. Polly _is_ having twins.”

Betty lets in a surprised breath.

“Bless our Blossom genes!” Cheryl proclaims.

“And she didn’t call to tell me,” Betty reflects to Jughead, disappointed.

His brow furrows as he stares down Cheryl, “Hostages aren’t normally allowed to make outgoing calls.”

“Can you please just give her a message for me?” Betty presses.

“As long as it doesn’t upset her,” Cheryl offers reluctantly.

Betty’s earnest, “Tell her she should call our mom. She’s...trying really hard to hide it, but I can tell she’s really, really hurt and upset.”

“I’ll pass your message along…”

“Thank you.”

“If I remember.”

Jughead interjects, _“Cheryl.”_

She looks his way, a smile in her eyes despite her slight scowl, “That was a joke, you hobo.” She gives Betty a smile, “Of course I’ll give her your message, Betty. But no promises that she’ll care or respond.” She pushes past both of them.

Jughead glares, giving Betty a small, reassuring nod, wrapping his arm around her as they move through the hall, “Don’t let Cheryl bother you.”

“I’m not,” Betty insists, mostly meaning it, “I just don't understand why Polly's acting like this...”

“Well, you know my theory, Betts,” Jughead rubs her back, “either way, we’ll find out.”

\--

The next day, Betty paces across the floor of the Blue and Gold newsroom, Jughead leaning against a desk beside her.

Betty’s furious, “My parents are un-believable, Jug, Polly is locked up in that house like a character out of Jane Eyre, and what are they doing? Changing each other’s login accounts and throwing _bricks_ through windows.”

“I wish I had seen that,” Jughead comments.

Betty turns to him, eyes wet, disappointed.

“Okay,” he looks to the floor, “I’m sorry. It’s not funny…”

“It’s like, you know how in a time of crisis, people either come together or fall apart?” Betty clasps her hands together, waiting for Jughead’s response.

He only offers her a small nod, still feeling guilty. 

Betty swallows, tears filling her eyes, her voice breaking, “Feels like we’re falling apart.” She lets in a shaky breath, “And the way things are going, pretty soon, the Coopers, we’re not gonna _exist_ anymore, and there’s nothing I can do to stop that!” A tear falls down her cheek as Jughead interrupts.

“Betty...Betty, don’t do that!” He stands, voice gentle but firm, “Don’t give up.”

Betty faces him, sniffling. 

He leans in closer, meeting her gaze, “Your family is definitely splintering right now, but it won’t fall apart, because of _you.”_

Betty sighs.

“Because _you’re_ holding them together,” Jughead insists softly, weak at the sight of Betty’s pain. He’s not going to let her think like this. Pointing toward the doorway, he makes a stand for her in earnest, “You’re so much _stronger_ than all the white noise.” 

Betty looks at him with pain and love in her eyes, tears staining her cheeks.

“You’re stronger than your mother.” Jughead carefully takes her hand, holding her gaze, “You’re stronger than your _father.”_

He touches her shoulder, a grounding gesture, _“You’re_ holding this family together.”

Betty sniffles, touched. 

“So don’t,” Jughead's eyes begin to shine, his voice falling to a whisper, “Don’t let go.” He clenches her lapel as if to keep her there. God, he needs her now. He never wanted to need someone again. He needed his parents, he needed Jellybean, and they all left or let him down. Betty’s always been there, through it all. Like _hell_ he’s going to let her despair.

Another tear tracks down Betty’s cheek. Through pouting lips, she mumbles back “I won’t.” She meets his gaze just long enough to see the love overflowing in him. How did she ever find someone so warm and kind, someone _real_ who cares for her like he does?

She lets out a sob, Jughead whisking her into a hug, cradling her neck. Her tears dampen his shirt, her sobs rocking him. He clenches her tightly, kissing the side of her head, whispering love into her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll be posting frequently in the next week or so. This fic will end in non-canon (end of season 1) smut. Questions, comments, or kudos? Please leave them below!


	24. The Best Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's dialogue-heavy because of the nature of the scenes in it. The next chapter will have more of the characters' thoughts!

Betty rushes into the kitchen, Jughead on her heels, “Mom.” 

Alice is sitting at the table, nursing a glass of wine, her eyes rimmed in red. 

Betty’s so relieved, “Archie just called, he talked to Polly. She’s safe. She’s _okay,_ Mom.” As Betty’s smile grows, Jughead lingers by her side, keeping quiet. “She didn’t _choose_ the Blossoms, she’s actually there to spy on them.”

Alice looks up at her, wide-eyed. _“Thank God,”_ she thinks, letting out a quiet sob. She wipes her eyes, smiling up at her daughter as she crosses her arms on the table, “You know, when I went after this story...I thought, in the back of my mind that, ‘What if this is it? What if this is finally the time that she doesn’t come back?”

“She will, Mom.” Betty rushes to sit beside her while Jughead stays put. It’s not really his place to get involved. The youngest Cooper continues, resting a hand on her mom’s arm, “And right now, she’s our woman on the inside. We’re going to write this story.” She turns to Jughead.

“Come write with us,” Jughead addresses Alice, “at the _Blue and Gold.”_

Alice is skeptical, “The school newspaper?” 

A smile begins to grow on Jughead’s face - she has a point, “Yeah, that’s what we are. But I’m pretty sure that our annual operating budget is bigger than the _Register’s.”_

Betty looks her mom’s way, hopeful.

Alice looks at Jughead for a long moment, considering it. After a second, she gives him a small nod. 

Maybe he’s not so wrong for Betty.

\--

Archie appears in the doorway of the _Blue and Gold_ the next day, “Hey, guys, I need to tell you something.”

Jughead and Betty look up from their work. Betty stands, concerned, “What is it, Archie?”

“It has to do with your investigation.” 

Jughead rises from his seat, pulling out the one they use for interviews, “Sit here."

Jughead and Betty lean against a long desk facing the interview chair. 

Archie lands in it, sighing, “It’s about last night. At the banquet, I heard Mr. and Mrs. Blossom talking. It sounded like Clifford Blossom was responsible for sending Veronica’s dad to jail.”

Jughead bites his lip, _“Now, this is good.”_

“Oh, my God,” Betty reacts. 

Jughead jumps up, heading over to the murder board.

“If Clifford sent Hiram Lodge to jail, tore apart his family...” Betty notices Jughead writing something down - he's so on top of things, “then maybe Hiram was trying to do the same thing to him?” She looks up at Jug for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Jug agrees, excited in his level way, “by going after what the Blossoms value most: their family, their legacy. _That’s_ a motive.” As Archie and Betty exchange looks, Jug pins a name to the board: Hiram Lodge. 

\--

Fred Andrews knocks on Archie’s door, catching the boys slumped, Archie on his bed and Jughead on a chair in front of the TV playing video games, a morning ritual. 

“I’m, uh...I’m headed out,” he explains, hands on his hips, “Sorry to be missing your birthday this weekend, Jug.”

Jughead risks virtual death, looking away from his game, “Oh, you will not be missing anything, Mr. Andrews. I barely acknowledge my own birthday.”

Fred nods, looking Archie’s way. His son sighs. Fred knows what that means, and he’s not leaving until they talk about the divorce, “Arch, can you, uh...give me a hand downstairs?”

\--

As Betty and Archie walk together in the hall later that morning, he decides a slight betrayal of one friend could work for the greater good, “Hey, you may or may not know this, but...it’s Jughead’s birthday.”

Betty’s eyes almost shoot out of her head, _”What?_ And he didn’t say anything?”

“It’s tomorrow, and he doesn’t like making a big deal out of it.”

Betty can’t believe this, _"I mean, that’s very Jughead, but the whole point of a birthday is to celebrate!"_

“Every year, he goes to a double-feature at the Bijou,” Archie divulges. Betty nods. She needs to know everything. “It’s like this tradition,” Archie explains, “Last few years, I’ve been his movie-buddy. But now that he has a girlfriend...”

“Well, of _course,_ I’ll take him,” Betty insists, “But you should still come with us.”

“No,” Archie grimaces, “I don’t wanna be a third wheel.”

“Come on,” Betty insists with a big grin, taking his arm, “it’ll be like old times!”

“The Three Musketeers,” Archie chimes in.

 _“Wait. FP always took us,”_ Betty remembers. “Actually, Archie, there were _four_ Musketeers.” She’s grinning like crazy now.

Archie chuckles at her expression, “I’ll see you later, Betty.”

“Okay,” she smiles deviously as he leaves. Betty has the _best_ idea. 

She slips into an empty classroom, pulling out her cell phone and scrolling through her contacts until she finds him: FP. It takes awhile for him to pick up, but he does, and her plan is in motion: “Mr. Jones, hi, this is Betty Cooper.” A look of realization dawns on FP’s face. He knows that name. “Jughead’s…” she starts to clarify.

“Girlfriend, yeah, I remember.”

Betty’s chipper, “Great! Well, I’m calling because it’s Jughead’s birthday tomorrow, and I wanted to see if maybe you would come see a movie with us, maybe grab dinner?”

FP chuckles, smirking. She’s a good kid. “Does he know you’re calling me?” he asks. He doubts his son would sign off on this kind of plan.

“No,” Betty admits, her smile growing as she pictures the surprise and joy on Jughead’s face, “I thought maybe I’d surprise him.”

FP laughs awkwardly, “Ah, man. There’s one thing that Jughead likes less than surprises, and that’s his birthday. Kid’s never even had a party, never wanted one…”

Betty’s brow furrows, “What? Never?”

“Mmm-hmm,” FP agrees, “Anyway, I think the best gift that I could give to Jughead would be to stay away.” Betty tries to speak, but FP plows ahead, “But I appreciate the call, Betty.”

He hangs up before she can respond. She stares at her phone, confused, “Okay…” That’s unusual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos or comments below.


End file.
